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His  Cuban 

Sweetheart 


H  IRovel 


COL.  RICHARD  HENRY  SAVAGE 

AUTHOR   OF 

("MY   OFFICIAL   WIFE,"    ETC.) 


AND 


MRS.  ARCHIBALD  CLAVERING  GUNTER 


NEW   YORK 
THE    HOME    PUBLISHING    COMPANY 


COPYRIGHT,  i8gs. 
By   A.    C.    GUNTER. 

All  rights  reserved. 


CONTENTS. 


BOOK  I. 
THE  BUCCANEER'S  LEGACY. 

PAGE 

CHAPTER  I. — At  Edgecliff  on  the  Hudson,             -  5 

"        II. — The  Altar  Treasure  of   Maracaibo,  18 
"        III.— The  Veiled  Secret  of  the  Leaden 

Casket,                                                    -  34 

"        IV. — Felipe's  Quest,     -                            -  51 

"        V.— Wait  Till  We  Hear    From    Nixon,  67 

BOOK  II. 

IN  THE  GRASP  OF    THE  SPANIARD. 

CHAPTER  VI. — "  Pasado  por  las  Armas,"       -        -     79 
"         VII. — The  King  of  Emeralds,  -   100 

VIII.— The  Vital  Half,  -114 

IX. — The  Innocent    Hand  Breaks  the 

Seal,  -   133 

"         X. — The    Ball    from     the    Hammerless 

Revolver,  -   149 

"         XI.  — "  Courage  and  Quinine  !"  -   160 


2046111 


4  CONTENTS. 

BOOK  III. 

A  MODERN   FILIBUSTER. 

CHAPTER  XII. — Helpless  in  the  Forest,  -   170 

XIII. — The  Ambush  on  the  Aguan,        -   184 
XIV.— The  Missing  Signal  Fire,  -   198 

XV.  — "It  is  the  Padre!"       -  -216 

XVI. — There     is    no    Stain     upon    the 

Robe,       -  -  233 

"        XVII. — "The  Law  of  the  Buccaneers!"  243 


HIS  CUBAN   SWEETHEART. 


BOOK  I. 

THE    BUCCANEER'S    LEGACY. 


CHAPTER  I. 


AT    EDGECLIFF    ON    THE    HUDSON. 

"  YOUNG  man!  Do  you  know  where  you  are  going  ?" 
demanded  James  Nixon,  M.D.,  severely, — as  he  nailed 
his  friend,  Frank  Lorimer,  in  front  of  the  Hoffman 
House,  on  a  pleasant  August  evening  of  the  peaceful 
year  of  ninety . 

"Not  quite  so  hard,  Buster, "  remarked  the  victim 
singled  out  of  the  uptending  drift  of  America's  one 
promenade.  "  Let  up  and  I'll  answer.  I  suppose  I 
must  call  you  '  Doctor  Jim  '  now  !  " 

Still  in  the  grasp  of  his  classmate,  whose  "stroke  " 
was  not  yet  forgotten  in  the  rapid  eclipse  of  'varsity 
heroes,  Lorimer  shook  his  tawny  locks  and  laughed,  as 
his  captor  gravely  said :  ' '  There  is  but  one  human  being 
now  ornamenting  this  mundane  sphere  of  football  who 
is  privileged  to  call  me  'Doctor  Jim, 'and  she  is  the 
very  nicest  girl  in  New  York — bar  none  !  But  I  will 
answer  for  you,  as  you  stand  recusant.  You  are 
going  back  to  the  Club  to  dine  with  me."  Lorimer 
nodded. 

"  First  there  is  a  little  ceremony  !  "  remarked  the 
returned  traveler.  So  side  by  side  they  stood  in 
a  few  moments,  dividing  their  attention  between  the 


6  HIS   CUBAN    SWEETHEART. 

deft  manipulations  of  the  "gentleman"  who  prac 
ticed  at  the  bar — of  the  Hoffman — and  those  active 
o'ergrown  frolic  nymphs  of  Bougereau  twitching  around 
very  roughly  that  patient  satyr  who  is  only  one  Adam 
among  far  too  many  Eves,  and  so  pitifully  outclassed. 

"  Your  patients  !  "  gayly  cried  Lorimer,  as  he  struck 
the  attitude  of  the  Governor  of  North  Carolina. 

"Your  clients!"  merrily  rejoined  Doctor  Jim — in 
the  pose  of  the  chief  executive  of  South  Carolina — of 
that  ilk! 

"  De  mortuis  nil  nisi,"  sadly  remarked  the  son  of 
Galen,  as  he  gazed  into  the  wreck  of  a  Manhattan. 

"  Les  absens  out  to  uj ours  tort"  quietly  replied  Frank 
Lorimer.  "But  neither  tort  nor  trespass — nay,  nor 
breach  of  promise — even  the  festive  divorce — naught 
cometh  my  way.  If  I  ever  figure  conspicuously  in 
legal  circles,  I  fear  I  will  have  to  furnish  forth  the 
wedding  breakfast — with  funeral  baked  meats  of  my 
own  cooking." 

"  In  other  words,"  rejoined  Doctor  Jim,  "we  may 
admit  that  we  have  toiled  all  night,  and  taken  nothing. 
Is  this  a  fair  return  to  Alma  Mater  for  all  her  years  of 
fostering  care  ?  " 

Lorimer  laughed  heartily  as  they  selected  a  couple 
of  Brevas.  "We  might  have  done  worse  by  old  Yale." 
he  gravely  argued.  "  In  the  first  place  we  have  both 
just  taken  something.  I  have  taken  a  trip  around  the 
world  for  these  two  weary  years,  to  restore  my  nerves, 
broken  down  by  much  'midnight  oil!'  And  you? 
What  have  you  taken?  '  How  stands  the  record  of 
the  dying  year?'  as  the  Devil  somewhat  pointedly 
queried  of  that  very  remarkable  person,  the  Black 
Crook." 

Doctor  Jim  Nixon,  with  an  air  of  professional  dig 
nity,  admitted  taking  a  long  furlough.  A  year  of 
European  gadding  and  a  twelve  months'  cruise  in  the 
West  Indies  with  his  esteemed  uncle,  Surgeon  Bradford, 
U.  S.  Navy,  had  filled  up  his  time  bill. 

"And  what  may  your  harvest  have  been,  my  man  of 
bones  ? "  continued  Lorimer,  as  they  strolled  over 
Madison' Square  to  a  quiet  corner  in  the  University 
Club. 


HIS    CUBAN    SWEETHEART.  7 

"I  have  learned  how  to  roll  cigarettes  a  1'Espagnoi, 
also  the  soft  dialect  of  Don  Quixote  de  la  Mancha, 
and  the  art  of  devouring  alligator  pears,  conch  soup 
and  many  weird  Castilian  dishes  suitable  in  tone  to  the 
climate  of  your  probable  final  domicile.  But  I  can  con 
scientiously  swear  that  I  am  guiltless  of  human  blood ! 
No  lost  soul  comes  wailing  to  my  door!  I've  learned 
a  bit  of  the  world,  though.  But — the  law  ?  Your 
chaste  mistress  ?  " 

"  I  have  been  a  law  unto  myself  !  "  lightly  answered 
Lorimer,  "and  I  have  expounded  the  law,  '  Thou  shalt 
not  steal,'  to  the  many  cosmopolitan  sharks  nibbling 
at  my  juicy  youthful  greenness.  I  have  also  satisfied  that 
vague  yearning  to  go  aimkssly  abroad — which  proves  we ' 
are  still  a  parvenu  nation.  I  have  been  indifferent  in  Eng 
land,  mildly  agnostic  in  France,  flatly  defiant  in  Ger 
many,  and  passive  among  the  madding  Italian  crowd, 
Perhaps  I  have  at  least  learned  the  value  of  directness, 
for  I  came  directly  home  like  a  good  boy — from  Liver 
pool — no  stops  on  the  way.  I  have  seen  about  the 
whole  thing  and  I  have  not  'practiced  to  deceive,' 
if  I  have  not  exactly  knocked  Webster,  Choate, 
Kent  and  Story  from  their  coigns  of  vantage." 

As  the  two  friends  faced  each  other  at  table,  they 
were  a  striking  contrast.  Frank  Lorimer's  twenty- 
four  years  showed  the  splendid  development  of  a  tawny- 
haired  athlete.  Blue-eyed,  with  a  frank  laughing  face, 
his  restrained  garb  of  civilization  covered  the  browned 
arms  and  sun-scorched  back  of  a  giant  midship  oar. 

"Doctor  Jim"  in  supple  dark  elegance  of  contour, 
disguised  the  spring-steel  vitality  of  his  perfect  propor 
tions.  Clear,  steady,  dark-brown  eyes,  a  firmly  cleft 
chin,  with  mobile,  sensitive  lips,  and  a  flush  of  restrained 
Celtic  passion,  he  might  have  been  taken  easily  for  the 
pick  of  either  of  the  three  branches  of  the  gifted  Gauls. 

The  chance  reunion  of  two  leading  members  of 
the  "Skull  and  Bones  "  set  their  hearts  throbbing  once 
more  with  the  memories  of  their  days  of  wine  and 
wassail.  Before  the  chums  had  reached  the  Omega  of 
the  menu,  they  had  discussed  many  half  forgotten 
college  comrades,  and  genial  old-time  roving  enemies. 

"See    here,   Buster!"    remarked      Frank    Lorimer 


8  HIS   CUBAN    SWEETHEART. 

with  a  sudden  soberness,  "as  we  are  Doth  doing 
nothing — suppose  we  join  forces  and  do  it  to 
gether!  Now,  old  man,  you  have  long  owed  me 
a  visit.  I  have  a  telegram  from  the  Mater  to  report 
forthwith  at  Edgecliff.  I  have  not  seen  my  home 
for  these  two  long  years.  Come  and  be  one 
of  us  in  the  slumbrous  old  Fishkill  valley !  You  can 
run  down  to  York  whenever  you  want  a  day!  There 
are  trout — they  actually  are  takeable!  And — wood 
cock — a  more  or  less  evanescent  tradition!  At  any 
rate,  we  will  get  as  near  them  as  we  do  to  most  of  the 
things  we  covet  in  life.  We  will  have  a  distant  glimpse 
at  least!  You  know  my  mother  always  fancied  you. 
And — Ethel  is  at  home  now.  She  has  been  success 
fully  ground  out  of  Matthew  Vassar's  training  mill  for 
'  la  jeune personne  bien  elevee  /'  I  hope  she  will  not  look 
down  on  me !  For  the  New  Woman  cometh  on  apace 
in.  her  might." 

"She  was  a  nice  little  girl,"  remarked  Doctor  Jim, 
with  a  four  years'  past  memory  of  a  delightfully  over 
grown  young  thing  with  a  mutine  child  face.  It  was 
in  that  strange  uncertain  age  when  frocks  are  unad- 
justable  and  nothing  fits,  when  Nixon  had  led  the  shy 
child  over  the  campus  of  Yale.  His  personal 
reminiscences  were  only  a  clouded  vision  of  "legs  and 
arms  for  two." 

"By  Jove,  Doctor  Jim!  It's  a  case  of  '  child  no 
more ! '  Her  last  photograph  shows  me  a  slip  of  the 
budding  'new  womanhood '  of  America.  I  may  have 
to  ask  for  an  introduction  myself.  Now  you  have  not 
one  plausible  excuse  to  offer.  Let  us  strike  our  tents 
to-morrow!  '  Come  to  the  bower  I  have  shaded  for 
you!  '  "  gayly  suggested  Frank.  "  Foi  de  Rohan,  there 
are  no  mosquitoes  at  Edgecliff!  " 

"I  would  like  to  come,"  replied  Nixon.  "I 
might  run  up  and  stay  from  a  Friday  night  to  Monday 
morning,  for  I  blush  to  admit  that  I  am  really  one  of 
the  three  months'  extra  physicians  of  the  Board  of 
Health,  and  my  tour  of  duty  runs  on  to  October  ist. 
I  am  also  making  a  special  study  of  nervous 
diseases  with  Jacoby!  That  seems  to  be  my  branch  of 
the  craft!  "  musingly  added  the  Doctor. 


HIS   CUBAN    SWEETHEART.  9 

Frank  Lorimer  started  at  the  last  remark.  "Nixon, 
you  must  surely  come  up  to  Fishkill  with  me.  Throw 
overboard  your  Board  patients  for  a  few  days,  or  get  a 
leave.  I  have  really  a  very  interesting  case  for  you. 
Something  in  your  own  special  line.  I  had  forgotten 
all  about  the  dear  old  Mater's  letter,  for  she  did  charge 
me  with  a  request  to  look  up  some  reliable  nerve 
specialist." 

"  I  hope  there  is  nothing  wrong  in  your  own  family, 
Frank!"  earnestly  rejoined  Doctor  Jim,  with  an  air  of 
startled  interest.  In  truth  James  Nixon,  M.  D. ,  had  been 
secretly  speculating  upon  the  possible  development  of 
the  Miss  Legs  and  Arms,  of  these  four  years  of  rose 
bud  formation,  into  a  shining  wonder,  wearing  a  real 
train. 

"No!  Our  own  people  are  all  well,  thank  God!" 
heartily  said  Frank.  "  But  I  really  have  a  double 
claim  on  you  now.  For  many  years  the  dear  mother's 
widowed  seclusion  at  Edge.cliff  has  been  lightened  by 
the  courtly  friendship  of  an  old  Cuban  Don,  who 
has  a  modest  villa  near  by.  In  my  recent  boyish  days  I 
always  considered  General  Jose  Romero  quite  good  fun. 
I  really  don't  know  why  they  call  him  '  General,'  ' 
added  the  young  man,  "save  that  he  is  darkly 
supposed  to  have  been  chased  out  of  Cuba  by 
some  revolutionary  pampas — and  I  suppose  it  is  always 
the  swell  thing  for  a  Cuban  to  be  a  General.  I  only 
recognize  now  the  perfection  of  his  manners.  The 
bonhommie  of  a  Henri  Quatre — the  gentle  gravity  of  a 
Don  Quixote.  He  has  been  growing  feeble.  There's 
something  a  little  out  of  gear  in  his  upper  story,  and  as 
you  speak  Spanish,  I  will  nail  you  as  the  coming 
'specialist.'  So  get  another  sawbones  to  take  your 
gentle  clientele  for  a  week,  and  you  can  bag  the  Don, 
the  trout  and  the  woodcock  at  one  fell  swoop." 

"  Has  he  any  family?"  rejoined  Nixon,  with  an  air 
of  awakening  interest. 

"  A  very  spirited  lad  of  twenty,  his  only  son,  Felipe, 
and  a  Cuban  boy,  a  sort  of  ward,  the  relative  of  some 
influential  priest  down  at  Matanzas.  Both  these 
youngsters  are  being  educated  at  Poughkeepsie.  That  is, 
they  are  mixing  up  all  American  petty  vices  with  the 


10  HIS    CUBAN    SWEETHEART. 

little  back  load  they  brought  from  '  la  siempre  fiel  isla 
de  Cuba.'  Felipe  is  not  a  bad  sort,  but  the  other  boy, 
Juan  Valdes,  is  a  terror — an  ugly  mannered  cur.  I 
have  given  him  some  royal  thrashings.  Felipe  is  all 
moonlight  eyes,  chivalry,  generosity  and  soft  guava  jelly 
broken  English.  The  other  is  a  black-browed,  reso 
lute  young  wretch,  smart  enough,  God  knows,  and 
will  make  a  capital  subject  for  the  '  garrote  '  some  day. " 

Lorimer  paused  and  sipped  his  cafe  noir. 

"And  las  Senoras  y  Senoritas?"  questioned  Doctor 
James.  "Hath  the  knight  of  La  Mancha  no  woman 
kind?  In  this  stress  he  would  seem  to  sorely  need 
the  hand  of  the  gentle  sex." 

"There  is  a  daughter,  my  boy,"  triumphantly  re 
joined  Frank.  "  Seiiorita  Inez  Romero,  and — I  beg 
the  doncellas  pardon.  She  has  been  pressed  gently 
through  the  grooves  of  Vassar  College  as  a  foil  to 
Ethel,  and  they  are  in  that  delicious  intimacy  of  young 
womanhood  known  as  sworn  bosom  friends.  When  I 
saw  them  last  they  were  identically  decorated  with 
class  pins,  class  bracelets  and  class  gewgaws  of  all 
kinds.  The  Cuban  maid  was  then  a  shy,  silent, 
graceful  girl  with  two  very  telling,  wistful  eyes.  Ethel 
writes  me  that  Inez  is  wonderfully  beautiful  now. 
Her  mother  was  the  reigning  belle  of  la  Havana  in 
the  golden  days  of  the  great  Capitan  General  Concha. 
The  storm  which  drove  General  Romero  to  our  shores 
laid  her  under  the  fan  palms  of  the  old  hacienda  at 
Jibacoa.  The  old  hidalgo  is  still  tenderly  faithful  to 
her  memory.  So,  his  lonely  sorrow,  has  lightened 
my  mother's  widowhood,  for  in  this  case  one  and  one 
make  only  one  half  each — instead  of  two.  The  two 
girls  have  grown  to  be  very  dear  to  each  of  these 
lonely  lives.  If  you  had  not  made  that  remark, 
Jimmy,  about  the  girl  who  monopolizes  your  profes 
sional  title,  I  would  have  added  that  you  could  work 
in  a  little  of  the  '  lengua  castellana  '  here  in  the  '  luz 
de  mi  alma 'and  '  ojos  criollos' style.  Are  you  pre 
empted  already  ? " 

Doctor  James  was  gravely  tender  as  he  said:  "  That 
girl  of  whom  I  spoke,  Frank,  my  only  relative,  the  last 
of  our  race,  Clare  Nixon,  my  sweet,  gray-eyed  cousin, 


HIS    CUBAN    SWEETHEART.  II 

takes  the  white  veil  next  month.  Dearly  beloveu  oy 
me,  she  will  only  be  the  bride  of  Silence!  "  After  a 
pause,  he  queried:  "Is  your  escaped  patriot  a  rich 
man  ?  " 

"That(s  the  very  thing,"  anxiously  replied  Frank. 
"They  say  we  all  have  a  fad — a  loose  pulley — some 
queer  crank  notion  in  our  natures.  The  Mater  writes 
that  Don  Jose,  who  has  led  a  singularly  moderate  life, 
devoid  of  all  apparent  excitement,  is  dead  gone  on  the 
subject  of  an  imaginary  realm  of  treasures  in  emeralds, 
which  are  his  shadowy  riches. " 

"  A  sort  of  King  of  Emeralds,  a  gentle  hallucina 
tion!  "  murmured  Nixon.  "I  suppose  that  his  mind  is 
beginning  to  wander." 

"  Not  a  bit,"  energetically  replied  Lorimer,  "  Gen 
eral  Romero  is  only  sixty-two  and  his  present  fad 
takes  the  form  of  ::n  enthusiasm  very  definite  and 
positive.  My  mother  writes  that  he  soon  expects  a 
visit  from  Padre  Vicente  Guerra,  this  young  tiger  cub's 
uncle.  I  believe  the  Padre  has  endeavored  to  save 
something  out  of  the  wreck  of  vast  sugar  and  tobacco 
plantations,  and  the  scattered  wealth  of  Don  Jose. 
But  the  present  stern  Governor-General  has  legally 
•confiscated  the  Jibacoa  Hacienda.  The  General  is  a 
proscribed  'traitor,'  and  would  likely  be  ' pasado  por 
las  annas  '  if  he  stole  back  there.  That  is  out  of 
the  question.  He  is  only  too  well  known  in 
Havana,  where  his  tender-eyed  wife  was  the  queen 
of  the  goddesses  of  the  volante  for  years.  Now  the 
coming  of  this  priest  strangely  agitates  the  old 
Don.  He  tells  all  to  the  Mater!  She  is  a  little  fright 
ened,  I  think.  Even  the  simple  girl,  Inez,  is  anxious! 
She  knows  nothing  whatever  of  the  emerald  bonanza, 
and  the  boy  is  occasionally  at  school,  or  mostly  roving 
around  New  York  with  the  undesirable  Juan  Valdes. 
Beyond  a  decided  '  leaning  toward  '  the  American  girl 
and  a  capacity  for  twanging  the  guitar  and  haunting 
the  theaters,  I  believe  that  Felipe  is  good  for  nothing, 
save  to  spend  money  a  la  Habanera." 

"  Does  the  hopeful  Felipe  know  aught  of  the  green 
gems  and  where  they  are  salted  down  ?  "  earnesly  ques 
tioned  Nixon. 


12  HIS    CUBAN    SWEETHEART. 

"Bless  you!  Felipe  Romero  is  so  gracefully  mentally 
lazy  that  he  could  not  tell  an  emerald  from  a  marsh- 
mallow!  " 

"Well,  Frank,"  slowly  said  Doctor  James,  "  I  will 
take  a  week  off  like  Mary  Ann,  and  accept  your  kind 
invitation!  "  The  young  medico  rose  as  he  glanced  at 
the  clock. 

"I  will  give  you  a  rattling  good  time,"  cried  Lori- 
mer,  "and  I  am  glad  to  see  that  Miss  Inez  has  turned 
the  scale  like  the  sword  of  Brennus.  For  adding  her 
to  the  trout,  the  Don  and  the  woodcock,  the  '  big  four' 
is  irresistible.  The  only  thing  you  have  to  do  is  to 
gain  the  dear  old  General's  confidence,  for  he  is  charm 
ingly  courteous,  yet  solemnly  distant,  and  you  will  have 
to  dig  him  out  of  his  shell  like  a  pecan." 

"I  shall  be  very  happy  to  thank  your  mother  for 
her  past  kindness  in  college  days!"  said  Nixon, 
warmly,  as  they  parted  for  the  night,  a  rendezvous  for 
the  morrow  having  been  arranged. 

Lorimer  sped  away  across  the  park  like  a  shooting 
star,  intent  upon  his  purpose  "to  hunt  up  some  of  the 
other  fellows,"  and  yet  his  mind  was  strangely  cen 
tered  upon  the  soft-voiced  Cuban  girl !  He  remembered 
laughing  on  a  Mediterranean  steamer  at  reading  the 
semi-original  poem  signed  "Oscar"  in  the  Fishkill 
Weekly  Bugle  addressed  to  "Inez  and  Ethel,"  in  which 
the  rural  songster  had  improved  Byron  by  tacking  a 
new  prow  on  his  well-known  lines,  with  the  needed 
alterations: 

"And  all  that's  best  of  dark  and  bright 
Meets  in  their  aspect  and  their  eyes!" 

"I  wonder  if  she  has  Americanized  herself  into  a 
little  staying  power  of  beauty,"  mused  Lorimer. 
"  She  promised  to  be  a  stunner!  " 

Old  Sol  was  doing  his  perpendicular  best  to  drive 
all  the  long-suffering  and  long  suffered  police  of  New 
York  City  into  the  cool  vaults  where  Gambrinus 
reigneth,  when  the  two  friends  met  next  day  at  the 
Forty-second  street  station.  There  was  a  profession 
ally  expectant  look  of  restful  calm  upon  Nixon's  hand 
some  face  and  a  certain  aptitude  in  the  decorative  arts 
was  shown  in  his  cool  grays  and  whites. 


HIS    CUBAN    SWEETHEART.  13 

As  for  Frank  Lorimer,  he  was  both  wearied,  flurried 
and  excited. 

There  was  a  crimson  spot  burning  on  his 
cheek  as  he  said  anxiously:  "  I  have  both  a  letter  and 
a  telegram  from  the  Mater !  Did  you  bring  your 
'  indispensables  '  in  the  way  of  nerve  carpentering  ?  " 

They  were  now  bowling  along  out  of  town  into  the 
tunnel!  Nixon  nodded  an  assent. 

"  I  am  glad, "  remarked  Lorimer  in  the  shades  of  dark 
ness.  "The  old  Don  has  just  had  a  cablegram  from 
Havana,  his  Friar  of  orders  gray  is  on  the  way  here,  with 
some  important  intelligence.  It  seems  to  have  set  the  an 
cient  hidalgo  swimming  for  dear  life  in  his  Emerald 
sea — or  sea  of  Emeralds.  For  the  Mater  wired  me  to 
take  you  right  over  there  to  see  him.  Inez  is  simply 
frightened  into  helplessness,  and  is  with  our  people. 
The  local  medicos  cannot  speak  the  tongue  of  Tortillas 
and  Tamales  and  he  is  really  very  shy  and  suspicious! 
But  to  you,  coming  to  him  from  out  of  your  own  circle, 
he  will  unfold  his  armadillo  nature  and  shake  out  his 
Castilian  wrinkles.  You  ought  to  be  able  to  tell  pretty 
.soon  if  he  is  only  half  cracked  or  a  dead  goner.  Draw 
him  out,  and  let  him  'the  round  unvarnished  tale  de 
liver  ! '  It  will  ease  old  prunciado's  mind  at  all  events !  " 

As  they  spun  along  by  Spuyten  Duyvil  and  the 
Bronx,  classic  Yonkers  and  dreamy  Tarrytown,  the 
young  Doctor  mused  alone  over  the  situation.  "  I 
shall  endeavor  to  first  steady  the  old  gentleman's 
nerves,  then  to  give  him  a  good  sleep,  and  to  find  out 
from  Mrs.  Lorimer  arid  the  daughter  what  basis  of 
even  probability  there  is  for  this  emerald  fad." 

Lorimer  listened  with  interest  as  James  Nixon,  M.D  , 
gravely  expounded  his  preliminary  theories.  "  There 
is  a  world  of  difference,  my  dear  boy,  between  the 
haunting  of  this  solitary  dreamer's  brain  by  an  ingen 
ious  theory,  formed  upon  certain  facts  or  possibilities, 
and  a  hallucination  proceeding  from  mere  mental 
vagary,  a  wavering  mind,  senility  or  impending 
paresis!  A  romantic-minded  man  linked  in  memory  to 
the  weird  mystic  stones  of  the  buccaneer-haunted 
Spanish  Main  may  indulge  fairly  woven  dreams  and 
theories  quite  untenable  to  us  practical  Yankees!  " 


14  HIS   CUBAN    SWEETHEAR1. 

"You  are  right!  "  brightly  remarked  Lorimer.  "  I 
have  a  firm  belief  that  failing  a  windfall  from  undis 
covered  aunts  or  the  '  heavy  uncle  '  of  the  stage,  any 
emeralds  I  ever  get  will  be  by  purchase  or  theft. 
Now,  this  gay  relic  of  the  aristocracy  of  the  Greater 
Antilles  fancies  that  a  large  number  of  these 
lambent  sea-green  gems  are  lying  around  loose 
somewhere,  waiting  for  him  to  pick  them  up. 
That  in  some  shadowy  way  they  belong  to  him  as 
fruits  of  the  bow  and  spear  of  some  old  mail-clad 
ancestor.  The  Mater,  Ethel  and  Inez  Romero  can 
tell  you  something  of  his  claims,  memories  or  theories. 
I  have,  however,  little  faith  in  them.  I  have  figured  the 
general  chances  out  on  my  shirt  cuff  and  find  some 
thing  like  a  million,  nine  hundred  and  odd  thousand  to 
one  against  the  General's  success." 

"Stop  joking,  Frank.  Tell  me  the  simple  founda 
tion  of  the  Don's  idea."  Nixon  tried  to  be  severe. 

"  He  has  some  vague  papers  referring  to  the  plant 
ing  of  these  captured  emeralds  in  some  unknown  place 
several  hundred  years  ago  by  some  ancestor  who 
flourished  with  Cortez,  Balboa,  Pierre  le  Grand, 
Lolonois  Morgan,  Hawkins  or  Sharp.  I  am  inclined 
to  think  that  in  those  later  unromantic  days  the 
emeralds  have  probably  been  looted  by  some  practical 
man." 

"Still,  I  must  converse  at  length  with  his  daughter 
on  the  subject  and  arm  myself  to  meet  his  story  intel 
ligently,"  remarked  the  doctor,  soberly. 

Frank  Lorimer  shook  his  tawny  locks  as  he  laughed: 
"  It  will  be  a  very  necessary  preliminary." 

Whereat  Nixon  suddenly  found  a  lively  inter 
est  in  contemplating  the  white-winged  argosies  waft 
ing  the  prosaic  brick  of  Haverstraw  down  to  the  wilds 
of  New  York  City. 

Lorimer's  minute  social  studies  of  such  eminent 
authorities  as  Life,  Town  Topics,  Judge,  Vogue,  Puck, 
et  id  omne  genus,  busied  him  till  the  cliff  villages  of 
the  great  Hudson  flashed  by  one  by  one — and  the 
train  swung  around  the  stately  fortress  of  West  Point 
under  the  walls  of  purpled  overhanging  Cro'  Nest. 

The  young  doctor  was   lost   in  a  day-dream.      His 


HIS   CUBAN    SWEETHEART.  15 

light-hearted  friend  automatically  expanded  his  genial 
countenance  over  the  humor  infesting  his  jovial  lit 
erature,  while  Nixon  drifted  into  a  series  of  rapidly 
dissolving  glimpses  of  the  romantic  past. 

"  Here  comes  the  shadow  of  the  grim  paladins  of 
the  Spanish  Main  stalking  into  our  unromantic  times," 
reflected  the  young  physician.  "The  wealth  of  old. 
Where  is  it  !  True,  the  ocean's  greedy  maw  has 
devoured  spoils  of  argosy,  galley  and  trirene — the 
wealth  of  Ormus  and  of  Ind.  Fire,  the  wanton  waste  of 
barbarian  captors,  the  earthquake  shock  and  all  the 
happenings  of  slowly  drifting  centuries,  have  hidden  the 
spoils  of  the  Romans,  the  treasures  of  Greece, 
the  riches  of  Egypt.  Hundreds  of  millions  in  gems 
are  probably  hidden  in  India  from  the  keen  eyes  of 
the  rapacious  official  English.  It  may  well  be  possible 
that  a  distinct  treasure  in  emeralds,  secreted  in  a 
place  of  surety,  would  be  safely  awaiting  for  two  or 
three  centuries  the  'open  sesame'  of  some  descendant 
of  their  possessor.  The  General  may  really  have  found  a 
secret  of  the  Past  hidden  in  the  flourish  and  firmas  of 
old  Spanish  parchments.  Probably  some  hoard 
extorted  from  trembling  natives  by  a  haughty  Castilian 
official,  who  left  some  description  of  the  hidden  treas 
ure,  for  the  old  Buccaneers  were  wont  to  write  their 
deeds  in  blood  alone  !" 

Ten  minutes  after  the  day-dream  passed  away  and 
Doctor  James  Nixon  recovered  his  presence  of  mind 
and  dropped  his  portmanteau,  as  Frank  wound 
himself  out  of  the  clinging  embrace  of  a  gracious  lady 
whose  still  blooming  cheek  recalled  the  days  when  men 
called  her  the  "Rose  of  the  Hudson." 

Mrs.  Agnes  Lorimer  was  pleased  to  be  kindly  reminis 
cent  of  her  beloved  son's  college  chum,  as  he  stood  hat  in 
hand.  There  was  an  amused  twinkle  in  Frank's  eyes  as 
he  led  the  astonished  Doctor  Jim  up  to  a  daughter  of 
the  gods,  divinely  tall,  and  most  divinely  fair. 

"Angels  and  ministers  of  grace  defend  us!"  mut 
tered  Doctor  Jim,  "but  the  little  girl  of  the  college 
campus  has  bloomed  into  a  goddess!"  Then  and 
there,  before  this  sudden  apparition  in  blue  and  gold, 
sapphire  eyes  of  gleaming  tender  light,  and  a  wealth  of 


l6  HIS    CUBAN    SWEETHEART. 

golden  hair  sweeping  down  over  her  pretty,  sloping 
shoulders,  James  Nixon,  M.D.,  felt  the  premonitory 
twinges  of  an  attack  of  "  heart  disease,"  the  most  sud 
den,  subtle  and  strangely  sweet  of  all  cardiac  affec 
tions. 

While  he  murmured  some  singularly  idiotic  and  irrel 
evant  greetings  to  the  fair  young  pillar  of  Vassar, 
Doctor  Jim's  illogical  remarks  "I  did  not  expect — I 
had  hoped,  Miss  Ethel — that  is,  I  did  not  know — 
etc.,  etc.,  were  cut  short  by  the  frankly  extended  hand 
whose  gentle  pressure  agitated  his  nerve  centers 
strangely  when  the  favored  of  Venus  said: 

"I  have  not  forgotten  all  your  kindness  to  me  at 
New  Haven." 

"  I  must  claim  your  professional  aid  at  once,"  ear 
nestly  interjected  Mrs.  Lorimer,  "  for  General  Romero 
is  in  a  singularly  excited  state.  Inez  is  with  him  now. 
Our  two  local  physicians  cannot  communicate  with 
him  technically.  We  will  drive  there.  Later  I 
shall  prison  you  with  us  at  Edgecliff,  which  you  must 
learn  to  love  for  Frank's  sake." 

In  a  strange  confusion  the  soul-startled  Nixon 
mechanically  echoed  the  fair  widow's  words  as  his  eyes 
lingered  lovingly  upon  the  beautiful  apparition  whom 
Lorimer  seemed  to  treat  as  if  she  were  not  made  of 
fire  and  dew,  of*blossoms  and  the  breath  of  the  spring 
roses  of  life. 

"Oh,  certainly,  Madame;  by  all  means!  I  am  sure  I 
shall  learn  to  love  Edgecliff — for  Frank's  sake,  as  you 
say!"  And  with  a  gleam  of  professional  dignity,  a 
waft  of  the  mantle  of  Jupiter,  he  slid  down  from  the 
clouds  into  the  calm,  deep  waters  of  professional 
questionings. 

"I  must  stick  to  Don  and  the  Emeralds,"  heroic 
ally  decided  Doctor  Jim,  mindful  of  his  Hippocratic 
oath,  as  he  was  swept  up  the  smooth  roads  of  the 
pleasant  Fishkill  Valley  into  the  elm-shaded  driveway 
of  a  quaint  old  porticoed  villa  with  a  smack  of  revolu 
tionary  tradition. 

"This  is  the  General's  home,"  said  Mrs.  Agnes,  as 
the  young  doctor  ceremoniously  handed  her  out  of  the 
wagonette.  "And  there  is  Inez!  " 


HIS    CUBAN    SWEETHEART.  17 

Nixon  turned  his  head.  But  already  between  him 
and  the  Cuban  maiden  was  that  genial  son  of  Anak, 
Frank  Lorimer!  "  The  white  brother's  "  voice  was  as 
soft  as  the  cooing  dove,  and  Nixon,  blinded  only  as 
regarded  himself,  observed  a  light  in  his  chum's  eyes 
far  different  from  the  dancing  fire  "at  the  other  fellows. " 

The  mental  pabulum  of  Vassar,  the  rosy  hours  of 
young  womanhood,  and  the  magnetic  companionship  of 
the  American  girl,  had  developed  Inez  Romero  into  the 
subtlest,  tenderest,  strangest,  thrilling,  semi-foreign 
loveliness!  "She  is  a  stunner,  as  friend  Frank  has 
it!  "  thought  Nixon,  as  he  greeted  the  graceful,  dark- 
eyed  beauty  in  the  language  she  loved. 

Led  by  the  daughter  of  the  stately  old  refugee,  the 
young  physician  entered  the  room  where  the  King  of 
Emeralds  was  floridly  waving  his  delicate,  thin  fingers 
in  futile  attempts  to  convey  sign  language  to  two 
bustling  country  practitioners.  A  colloquy  with  farmer's 
rosy  housewives  was  more  in  their  line  than 'exchanging 
"  beso  las  manos"  with  a  distant  relative  of  the  Cid 
Campeador. 

With  all  due  courtesy  to  his  brethren  who  were  glad 
to  be  relieved  of  the  stately  enigma  now  "  developing" 
his  views  in  sonorous  periods  to  the  New  York  doctor 
— Nixon  proceeded  to  arrange  for  the  quiet  and  com 
fort  of  the  ardent  and  enthusiastic  old  Cuban.  A  half 
hour  later  the  effect  of  Doctor  Jim's  Spanish  and  some 
singularly  powerful  bromides  caused  the  silver  gray 
head  of  Don  Jose  to  nod  gently  back  into  the  cushions 
of  his  chair  of  state. 

"Sea  por  Dios  !  Muy  sabio — pero — muy  joven  !" 
benignantly  whispered  the  General  to  his  beautiful 
daughter,  kneeling  at  his  feet,  as  he  listened  to  the 
Doctor's  pledge  to  hear  the  whole  history  of  the  case 
early  the  next  day. 

"  I  will  return  in  the  evening  and  confer  with  you, 
Senorita  ? "  softly  said  Nixon,  as  he  left  the  white 
robed  Murillo-faced  girl  bending  over  her  delicate  sire. 
"He  looks  like  a  marquis  of  the  old  regime,"  thought 
Doctor  Jim,  as  he  turned  away  to  where  a  certain  pair 
of  blue  eyes  were  now  bidding  him  to  the  genial  hearth 
stone  of  Edgecliff. 


1 8  HIS   CUBAN    SWEETHEART. 

CHAPTER  II. 

THE    ALTAR    TREASURE    OF    MARACAIBO. 

OUT  of  the  glen  where  Villa  Romero  nestled 
under  its  old  elms  and  chestnuts,  hardby  a 
dancing  brook  which  babbled  as  it  ran  away  to  join  the 
Kill,  James  Nixon — "personally  conducted" — sped 
on  toward  Edgecliff. 

Doctor  Nixon  never  could  recall  all  the  successive 
tableaux  of  his  first  evening  in  her  presence.  The  mantle 
of  Romero  had  fallen  across  a  prosaic  everyday  life, 
into  whose  gray  warp  roguish  Don  Cupid  was  already 
twining  threads  of  gold.  The  consideration  of  the 
still  distant  emeralds  of  legendary  existence  was  now 
eclipsed  by  the  living  sapphires  of  Ethel  Lorimer's 
beautiful  eyes  ! 

Mrs.  Lorimer,  anxious  and  preoccupied  with  the 
fate  of  the  feudal  looking  old  cavalier,  left  Doctor 
Jim  to  a  quiet  consideration  of  his  own  "case!" 

Strange  to  say,  while  Miss  Ethel  dropped  into  a 
frank  open  friendship  with  the  son  of  Galen,  her 
brother  during  the  return  drive  only  lifted  his  head  to 
say  to  his  mother  :  "Are  you  as  fond  of  Inez  as  ever  ?  " 

"  She  is  a  part  of  our  daily  life,  Frank,"  replied  the 
fair  widow.  "For  while  the  General  easily  communes 
with  us  in  French ;  when  at  all  carried  away,  he  drifts 
at  once  into  Spanish!  So  I  lose  him  for  a  time!  The 
wrongs  of  Cuba,  his  strange  quest  for  the  old  family 
hoard — and  the  past  in  which  he  lives,  carry  him  away. 
But  Inez  is  a  blended  American  and  Cubana.  She  is 
moonlight  and  sunlight!  " 

Frank  Lorimer  sighed  the  sigh  of  the  social  sinner. 
He  had  projected  himself  into  the  orbit  of  this  dark- 
eyed  queen  of  night,  with  undue  carelessness,  and  as 
Dian  leaned  over  Endymion,  so  the  sweet  presence  of 
the  Spanish  patrician  seemed  to  wrap  him  in  a  cloud 
mist  of  love's  witching  fascinations. 

Despite    the   beauty  beside    him,  James  Nixon  was 


HIS    CUBAN    SWEETHEART.  19 

forced  to  think  of  his  new  patient  whose  singular  pre 
occupation  argued  a  cerebral  excitement  very 
dangerous  for  a  man  of  his  years. 

"Allow  me  to  ask,  Madame,  the  nature  of  the  Gen 
eral's  occupation — and  his  habits  ?  "  he  queried. 

"I  have  known  Don  Jose  ten  years,"  responded 
Mrs.  Lorimer.  "He  has  been  a  model  of  the  measured 
abstemious  elegance  of  the  better  class  of  Cubans. 
Stately  and  retiring,  he  has  busied  himself  with  Inez, 
wi.th  the  direction  of  Felipe's  education,  his  morning 
walks,  his  afternoons  al  fresca,  and  his  evening  inter 
course  with  us.  His  habits  are  almost  soldierly  in  their 
regularity  and,  when  not  driving  with  Inez,  or  dream 
ing  under  the  old  chestnuts,  he  is  turning  over  the 
books,  maps  and  plans  in  this  quaintly  decorated 
library.  I  have  never  seen  company  at  his  house,  save 
his  banker  'Munoz,'  from  New  York.  Once  or  twice, 
a  few  Van  Dyke  bearded  visitors  have  flitted  like  bats 
around  the  old  place,  usually  at  such  times  as  the  New 
York  Herald  hurls  abroad  the  tidings  of  contemplated 
risings  in  Cuba.  A  measured  elegance  in  living  causes 
me  to  think  that  General  Romero  has  ample  means  in 
Munoz's  hand.  He  receives  very  few  letters,  and  I 
have  never  seen  him  excited  save  in  his  recent  agita 
tion  about  the  '  lost  treasure.'  I  believe  Padre  Vicente 
Guerra  has  aimed  to  smuggle  out  a  few  of  the  family 
heirlooms  secreted  from  the  greedy  Spaniards.  There 
is  fine  plate,  some  good  pictures,  and  bric-a-brac  of  ex 
quisite  taste,  in  the  old  nest.  His  servants  are  all 
notable,  sturdy  glen  dwellers  here,  save  one  old  spectre 
who  was  his  companion  in  the  guerilla  wars  of  Cuba." 

"And  Inez?  Does  she  know  aught  of  the  family 
history  ?"  asked  Nixon. 

"  She  was  so  young, "  answered  Mrs.  Lorimer,  "that 
she  remembers  little  but  the  magnificence  of  their  ha 
cienda  at  Jibacoa,  and  the  wild  tumult  of  her  father's 
flight,  after  the  last  rising!" 

"  How  did  the  General  himself  escape?"  queried 
Doctor  Jim. 

' '  When  the  Lone  Star  flag  of  Cuba  went  down  in  the 
shadow  doom,  Don  Jose,  who  had  fought  himself  up  to 
special  outlawry,  made  his  way  to  the  coast  disguised 


2O  HIS   CUBAN    SWEETHEART. 

as  a  negro,  and  followed  by  faithful  old  Basilio.  The 
first  canoe  on  the  shore,  with  some  gourds  of  fresh 
water  and  clusters  of  bananas,  fitted  him  for  a  des 
perate  voyage  on  the  broiling  blue  expanse  of  the  Car 
ibbean.  Paddling  and  drifting  till  out  of  sight  of  land, 
an  American  logwood  schooner  luckily  picked  them  up 
and  landed  them  at  Key  West.  Since  then  Don  Jose 
has  lived  here  tranquilly,  save  by  the  annoyance  of 
furtive  Spanish  spies,  who  connect  the  old  lion  with 
any  strange  movements  of  the  present.  This  is  all  I 
know  of  him,  except  that  he  is  the  most  charming  of 
men,  a  devoted  father,  a  devout  Catholic,  a  patient, 
placid  nobleman.  He  has  taught  me  chess,  his  an 
tiquated  game  at  cards,  and  I  vibrate  between  his  table 
and  my  own.  Voila  tout!  "  said  Agnes  Lorimer. 

"And  do  you  like  the  old  General,  too,  Miss 
Ethel?"  hazarded  Nixon. 

"He  is  the  dearest  old  cavalier  alive,"  enthusi 
astically  replied  the  young  heiress  of  Edgecliff.  "A 
symphony  in  gray  and  yellow  with  a  golden  heart. 
But  one  touch  of  crimson  lights  up  the  calmness  of  his 
soul.  It  is  the  memory  of  his  dear  comrades,  the  pas 
sionate  proud  hacienda  gentry  slaughtered  in  the  des 
perate  fight  a  1'outrance  for  Cuba  Libre.  As  for  Inez, 
we  belong  to  the  same  secret  society  at  Vassar, 
and  are  sworn  sisters  besides."  Ethel  triumphantly 
rattled  her  trophies  of  that  college  as  mystic  and 
fearful  as  the  insignia  of  Rosicrucians. 

A  mad  thought  possessed  Doctor  Jim.  "Can  men 
be  initiated  into  those  sisterly  fraternities?"  He 
hurled  his  whole  odic  force  at  the  pouting  beauty. 

"By  no  means!"  decidedly  replied  Ethel.  Then 
she  doubtfully  added :  "They  may  be  eligible  later, 
perhaps. " 

"  I  hope  that  I  will  be  the  first  chosen,"  pleadingly 
remarked  Doctor  Jim.  "And  I  shall  rely  on  you  to 
propose  my  name." 

She  dropped  her  softly  shining  eyes  in  confusion 
and  reserved  the  momentous  question  of  Doctor  Nixon's 
eligibility  for  a  future  consideration  and  a  moment 
after  cried  merrily:  "Here  we  are  at  Edgecliff." 

The   sun   dropping   behind    the    blue   crests  of  the 


HIS   CUBAN    SWEETHEART.  21 

Highlands,  rested  on  no  fairer  scene  than  beautiful 
Edgecliff,  in  its  romantic  shaded  valley.  Before  the 
evening  star  shone  out,  Doctor  Jim,  piloted  by  the 
blue-eyed  chatelaine,  who  had  beamed  on  him,  knew  all 
the  varied  beauties  of  the  revolutionary  mansion.  Lawn 
and  meadow,  garden  and  arbor,  lovers'  rambles  and 
points  of  vantage  were,  one  by  one,  proudly  ex 
hibited. 

"  I  shall  leave  it  to  brother  Frank  to  show  you  the 
windings  of  our  old  home  itself.  I  am  the  ruler  of  the 
Happy  Valley.  And,  on  my  heath  and  lawns,  you  are 
subject  only  to  my  orders,"  laughed  Ethel  as  the  dress 
ing  bell  rang. 

In  all  the  gay  chatter  of  the  table  and  homecoming 
of  Lorimer,  now  a  rejuvenated  young  sun  god,  Doctor 
Jim  was  singularly  distracted.  He  studied  not  the 
diamond  windows  of  the  room  where  Benedict  Arnold, 
still  a  hero  in  blue  and  buff,  had  drunk  Madeira  with 
Washington.  He  listened  not  to  the  legends  of  Israel 
Putnam  and  the  slashing. Wayne,  the  graceful  anec 
dotes  of  Lafayette,  L'Enfant  and  Kosciusko.  For 
beside  him,  replete  with  the  tender  sweetness  of 
spring,  her  bosom  rising  and  falling  in  the  rich  tide  of 
her  young  life,  Ethel  Lorimer  knitted  around  him  the 
invisible  meshes  of  the  snare  which  always  brings  the 
lion  down. 

The  subtle  recognition  of  his  unspoiled  manhood,  the 
profusion  of  his  mental  gifts,  gave  the  newcomer  the 
glamour  of  a  young  Apollo  to  both  his  hostess  and  her 
daughter.  From  its  vantage  ground,  among  Queen 
Anne  plate  of  the  old  West  India  mahogany  side 
board,  Washington's  glass — filled  with  the  brinked 
up  Madeira,  dear  to  Knickerbockers — inspired  the 
dark-eyed  visitor  to  his  happiest  flight,  in  a  neatly 
turned  toast  to  the  mistress  of  Edgecliff. 

As  James  Nixon  set  down  the  ringing  crystal,  he 
glanced  at  Ethel,  her  rose-tinted  cheeks  glowing  with 
all  a  girl's  enthusiasm,  and  his  mind  ran  on  to  the  days 
when  peradventure  she  might  reign  here  in  the  halls 
hallowed  by  patriotism  and  sacred  to  hospitality. 

A  hush  of  unwonted  gravity  fell  upon  the  circle  as 
Mrs.  Lorimer  remarked:  "  Doctor,  I  will  send  the  car- 


22  HIS    CUBAN    SWEETHEART. 

riage  over  with   you   this  evening,  whenever   you  wish 
to  see  your  patient." 

Nixon  started  and  passed  from  one  phase  of  nervous 
disorders  to  another.  For  the  rosy  Hebe  at  his  side 
had  chased  away  the  vision  of  the  old  General  Jose 
Romero's  long  thoughtful  face,  with  its  overhanging 
forehead. 

"  I  am  deeply  interested  in  the  Don's  recovery," 
continued  Madame  Lorimer.  "We  have  long  divided 
each  other's  sorrows,  and  our  children  have  grown  up 
together." 

"  I  will  go  over  at  eight  o'clock,  then,  Mrs.  Lori 
mer!  "  gravely  said  Doctor  Nixon.  I  wish  to  confer 
seriously  alone  with  Miss  Inez.  I  presume  the  son 
would  be  of  no  use." 

Both  the  ladies  shook  their  heads,  more  in  sorrow 
than  in  anger. 

"  I  told  you  Felipe  was  only  good  to  fill  up  a  hole  in 
the  air!"  triumphantly  remarked  Frank.  "I  will 
drive  you  over  myself.  There  will  be  a  lovely  moon, 
and  I  can  also  confer  with  Miss  Inez,"  he  roguishly 
added,  "while  you  have  your  first  innings  with  Gen 
eral  Jose." 

"Tell  me  what  you  know  of  the  coming  priest,  the 
Padre  Guerra, "  said  Nixon.  "  It  seems  that  this  man 
is  the  center  of  the  newly-exciting  influences  sweeping 
your  old  friend  off  his  balance." 

Mrs.  Lorimer,  serene  and  calm,  measured  in  her 
moods,  said  slowly:  "I  have  seen  Father  Guerra  once, 
years  ago.  It  was  when  he  came  to  place  this  refrac 
tory  Valdes  boy  at  school  near  us.  The  man  is  pecu 
liarly  repellant  to  me.  He  may  be  of  a  much  lower 
social  grade  than  Don  Jose.  I  would  call  him  crafty, 
austere,  harsh,  and  capable  of  holding  the  lash  over  a 
gentle  nature." 

"That  awful  man,  mother!"  cried  Ethel.  "He 
always  frightens  me  with  his  gleaming  coal-black  eyes, 
his  shaggy  brows  and  his  abrupt,  harsh  ways." 

"Just  the  sort  of  man  they  hang  in  Texas  when 
they  find  him  near  a  horse  ranch!  lightly  said 
Frank.  "  In  externals  you  will  find  Viciente 
Guerra  perfectly  useless  for  decorative  purposes. 


HIS    CUBAN    SWEETHEART.  23 

I  suppose  he  bullies  the  pillar  dollars  out  of  the  peons 
and  snugly  feathers  his  nest.  Still,  he  seems  to  have 
the  old  boy's  confidence.  Mark  me,  Doctor  James!  " 
he  continued  earnestly,  "  if  there  is  any  future  villainy 
worked  on  the  General,  this  beetle-browed  padre  will  pop 
up,  Jack-in-the-box,  right  in  the  middle  of  it.  His  own 
hopeful  nephew  is  leading  Felipe  away.  The  lads  have 
both  just  money  enough  to  spoil  them.  I  fancy,  too, 
that  Juan  Valdes  is  a  general  spy  in  his  uncle's  interest. 
It  may  be  that  the  priest  is  feathering  his  nest  down 
there,  and  is  a  secret  agent  of  the  Spanish  govern 
ment." 

"  Miss  Inez?"  questioned  Doctor  Nixon. 

"  Despises  both  the  mestizo  priest  and  this  scape 
grace  Juan;  for  these  people  connect  her  only 
with  the  dark  memories  of  her  childhood.  Now,  mi 
amigo^  said  Frank,  "I  will  soon  show  you  the  very 
prettiest  trotter  in  the  Fishkill  valley." 

He  set  forth  his  cheroots  and  left  Nixon  a  willing 
captive  to  the"  ladies  on  the  portico,  remarking, 
"I'll  be  round  in  ten  minutes." 

"  Can  it  be  to  the  advantage  of  the  church  to  keep 
Don  Jose  away  from  Cuba?  Does  the  Padre  enjoy 
the  revenues  of  Jibacoa? "  suggested  Doctor  Nixon. 

"I  cannot  tell,"  regretfully  answered  Mrs.  Lorimer. 
"The  General's  gallantry  in  the  field  caused  his 
especial  proscription.  It  seems  the  banker  handles 
all  his  usiness.  Don  Jose  is  so  helpless  in  practical 
matters.  He  accepts  prosperity  with  modest  thank 
fulness,  and  adversity  with  graceful  resignation.  '  I 
have  given  my  whole  life  for  Cuba  Libre,'  he  said  once 
to  me.  '  My  heart  is  buried  with  my  dead  wife.  Only 
little  Inez  and  the  ashes  of  life  and  the  dying  embers 
now  remain.  For  Felipe — is — what  you  see,'  "  he  added 
with  a  sigh.  Then  she  sighed,  "  God  help  Inez  if  her 
father  should  die." 

' '  And  what  would  become  of  this  friendless  beauty?  " 
questioned  the  young  doctor  as  the  yellow  wheels  of 
Frank's  chariot  glittered  in  the  shrubbery. 

"  As  long  as  a  stone  stands  of  Edgecliff,  there  is  a 
home  here  for  Inez,"  quietly  remarked  the  lady  of  the 
manor,  adding  earnestly,  "  Seek  to  calm  the 


24  HIS   CUBAN    SWEETHEART. 

Don's  mind,  I  beg  you;  to  discover  the  truth 
of  the  romantic  visions  which  so  recently  have 
come  upon  him.  I  hope,"  she  said,  timidly, 
"that  General  Jose  will  not  involve  himself,  risk  his 
capital,  or  be  led  into  ruin  by  this  crafty  priest.  I  am 
afraid  ;  it  may  only  be  some  scheme  to  lure  General 
Romreo  down  there  within  the  reach  of  the  cruel 
Spanish  authorities." 

"  I  can  only  promise  my  professional  help,  Madame," 
replied  the  young  doctor,  heartily,  "but  I  will  confer 
with  Frank,  and  we  will  both  watch  over  Don  Jose, 
his  son  and  Inez — for  your  sake.  At  any  rate,  he  is 
always  safe  in  America.  The  days  of  poison  and  the 
stiletto  are  over.  As  for  the  Spanish  Government,  it 
has  no  more  power  than  that  of  Liberia  to  remove  him 
from  here." 

And,  as  they  drove  away,  Doctor  James  turned  his 
head  to  see  the  fair  mother  waving  them  adieu  and 
leaning  upon  the  rosy  goddess,  who  seemed  to  have 
caught  all  the  sunset  gold  in  her  tresses? 

"  You  see,"  said  Frank,  as  the  mare's  heels  clicked 
along  merrily  under  the  spreading  branches,  "the  dear 
old  boy  has  the  face  and  manners  of  a  Don  Juan  of 
Austria,  the  principles  of  the  Cid,  and  is  just  about  as 
suited  to  our  later  day  as  a  culverin  in  a  Hotchkiss 
quick-firing  battery.  His  delicate  visits  of  ceremony 
to  my  lonely  mother,  his  many  acts  of  family  kindness 
have  made  him  one  of  us.  We  must  stand  by  him.  I 
count  on  you,  dear  Jim,  to  get  the  weathergage  of  the 
old  Don's  phantoms.  He  is  shy,  proud,  sensitive, 
confiding  and  simple-hearted.  I  hope  the  black  and 
yellow  padre  won't  fleece  him.  But  here  we  are." 

And  with  all  the  dignity  of  a  first-class  whip,  Frank 
Lorimer  reined  up  his  splendid  mare  at  the  portico, 
where  Inez  Romero  in  fleecy  white  with  a  great  cluster 
of  red  roses  in  her  breast,  stood  silently  awaiting  them, 
an  embodied  spirit  of  all  the  dreamy  loveliness  of  that 
starlit  August  night. 

The  three  young  people  conferred  a  few  moments, 
before  the  doctor  "officially"  crossed  the  threshold. 
In  the  soft  melting  accents  of  her  lovely  sisterhood  of 
the  magnolia  land,  Inez  Romero's  simple  story  was 


HIS   CUBAN    SWEETHEART.  25 

soon  told.  Timidly  raising  her  eyes  to  Frank  for  con 
firmation  and  encouragement,  the  maid  of  Jibacoa  re 
counted  all  the  leading  incidents  of  her  childhood. 

"  I  see  now,  that  in  the  four  years  of  my  absence 
with  Ethel  at  Vassar,  my  dear  father  has  relapsed  into 
the  buried  past.  The  villagers  are  not  congenial  to 
him.  The  brisk,  lively,  electric  amassers  of  wealth  who 
play  at  retirement  in  the  new  villas  here  for  twelve 
hours  a  day,  and  then  whirl  away  daily  to  Wall  street 
for  another  pull  at  Circe's  cup — simply  stun  and  rebuff 
him." 

"I  know  that  you  will  at  once  gain  my  dear  father's 
confidence,  doctor,"  added  Inez.  "For  to  you  he  will 
open  his  heart."  And  smiled  the  gentle  prophecy. 

"Do  you  know  anything  of  this  past  which  weighs 
upon  and  harasses  your  father's  mind  ?  "  asked  Nixon, 
as  he  gazed  admiringly  at  her  beauty. 

The  girl  paused  and  slowly  answered:  "I  was  so  young 
when  we  were  driven  away  from  Jibacoa  that  I  cannot 
fix  my  memories  clearly.  I  knew  that  my  beloved 
mother  used  to  bend  over  me  in  prayer,  in  my  childish 
days!  I  can  see  her  now — the  gentle  wistful  smile, 
her  loving  tender  eyes,  her  sweeping  hair  falling  in 
perfumed  wealth  over  my  face,  the  camellia  on  her 
bosom,  and  the  red  roses  in  her  tresses.  Dear  Father 
to-day  treasures  the  golden  crucifix  which  she  was 
wont  to  press  to  her  lips  as  she  murmured,  after  kiss 
ing  me :  '  May  the  blessed  Virgin,  Star  of  the  Sea,  spare 
you  from  the  curse  of  Maracaibo !  ' ' 

Doctor  Nixon  started !  There  was  then  a  histoire 
de  famille! 

Inez  continued  sadly:  "My  negro  nurses  often 
frightened  me  with  their  vague  gibberish  about 
the  family  inheritance  of  woe !  When  General  Romero 
left  the  wreck  of  Cuba's  hopes  on  the  last  desperate 
field  of  rebellion,  it  was  only  to  guard  Felipe  and  me  that 
he  avoided  the  very  last  death  struggle !  But  I  could 
never  bear  to  question  him,  though  often  burning  with 
childish  curiosity.  My  mother's  death,  the  downfall 
of  the  patriotic  cause, — the  confiscation  of  our  vast 
estates, — his  approaching  old  age,  all  these  things 
made  me  refrain!  I  see  how  he  has  now  drifted  away 


26  HIS   CUBAN    SWEETHEART. 

into  the  past!  On  my  homecoming  I  frankly  said: 
'  Father,  let  me  divide  the  burden  of  your  sorrows. 
Tell  me  all ! '  Then  laying  his  dear  hand  on  my 
head  in  benediction,  he  softly  said:  '  Not  yet,  my  own 
Inez!  Some  day  you  will  know  all!  Alas!  Poor  Felipe! 
You  are  God's  child,  Inez  Marie  Estrello, — but  my  son 
lies  under  the  grim  doom  of  the  Romeros!  The  fatal 
knowledge  will  too  soon  come  to  you.  After — after  I 
am  gone.'  And  more  he  would  not  say.  From  Felipe, 
I  have  gathered  up  by  patchwork  shreds  all  his  glean 
ings  from  our  old  retainer  Basilio,  and  from  this 
young  Juan  Valdes — a  human  magpie.  In  the  olden 
days  an  ancestor  of  ours,  Fernando  Aguilarde  Romero, 
a  gallant  cavalier,  smarting  under  an  outrage  of  the 
tyrannical  Governor-General  at  Havana,  fled  and 
joined  Capt.  Henry  Morgan,  and  served  in  his  attack 
and  sack  of  Maracaibo  in  1669.  During  his  absence, 
while  fighting  the  wild  tribes  of  Nicaragua  under  the 
castled  flag  of  Spain,  the  Governor-General  hounded 
his  young  wife  with  insult.  On  his  return  Fernando 
threw  his  glove  in  the  cowardly  tyrant's  face,  cut  his 
way  through  the  astonished  guards  and  joined 
the  half-crazed  band  of  French,  Engli3h  and 
Basque  buccaneers.  A  son  of  the  church  he 
was  outlawed,  a  price  was  set  on  his  head,  and 
the  doom  of  the  Romeros  dates  from  those  awful 
days  when  Morgan's  men  held  high  revel  in  the  dese 
crated  Cathedral  of  Maracaibo.  It  was  then  that  the 
curse  of  excommunication  came  on  us.  For  murdered 
priests,  ravished  nuns  and  the  rifled  altars  stirred  the 
soul  of  fugitive  Fernando  Aguilar.  Only  my  father 
and  Padre  Viciente  Guerra  know  all,"  the  pious  girl 
whispered,  crossing  herself.  Then  she  continued, 
impressively:  "I  know  but  this,  that  my  father 
would  fain  solve  the  whole  mystery  before  he 
dies.  The  curse  rests  alone  on  the  men  of  our 
race.  And  yet  we  helpless  women  suffer  as  the 
rest.  For  all  who  marry  into  the  Romero  line  droop 
and  die.  The  old  story  goes  that  the  last  of  us,  a 
woman,  shall  pass  out,  free  of  the  malediction  of  God's 
vice-gerent.  It  is  supposed  that  there  are  valuable  old 
papers  secreted  still  about  Jibacoa.  For  in  his  old  age 
Don  Fernando  Aguilar,  pardoned  by  a  new  sovereign, 


HIS    CUBAN    SWEETHEART.  27 

builded  the  halls  where  our  family  has  since  reigned. 
Some  documents  yet  extant  point  to  the  full 
history  of  the  affair,  as  being  secreted  in  the  old 
Hacienda.  For  according  to  legendary  romance  the 
vast  treasures  of  the  plundered  Maracaibo  cathedral 
are  hidden  yet  in  some  unknown  haunt.  Even  in  our  time 
the  negroes  say  that  sword  in  hand,  the  grim  specter 
of  Fernando  Romero  stalks  on  guard  around  the 
lonely  walls  of  Hacienda  Jibacoa.  To  discover  the 
past  in  all  its  shaded  history,  to  atone,  to  restore,  to 
make  restitution  and  peace  with  Rome  at  last,  has 
become  my  father's  waking  dream. " 

Doctor  Nixon  lifted  his  head.  "  I  thank  you,  my 
dear  young  lady,"  he  said.  "I  begin  to  see  that  we 
must  make  a  golden  circle  around  your  noble  father. 
This  strange  legend  probed  to  the  uttermost  must  at 
last  clear  his  mind,  and  no  rough  skepticism  must  be 
suffered  to  drive  him  on  into  gloomy  self-devouring. 
I  shall  try  to  gain  his  whole  confidence  and  then  con 
fer  as  to  his  physical  treatment  with  the  ablest  men  of 
my  craft.  While  he  cannot  venture  under  the 
bloody  flag  of  Spain,  if  there  be  news  of  moment  in 
this  coming  priest's  budget,  we  must  take  steps  to 
reach  the  Hacienda  and  solve  the  riddle." 

"Count on  me,"  earnestly  said  Frank  Lorimer,  with 
a  glance  at  Inez  which  caused  the  gentle  Cubana  to 
tremble  in  a  sudden  confusion,  and  lead  the  way 
to  the  presence  of  the  lonely  old  Don. 

"I  feel,"  whispered  Lorimer,  "that  the  thing  is 
destined  to  mold  some  of  our  lives  strangely." 

•'It  is  a  case  which  will  make  demands  on  a  con 
siderable  part  of  my  time,"  guiltily  remarked  Nixon, 
who  could  not  ignore  the  fact  that  the  "professional 
assistance  "  of  Miss  Ethel  Lorimer  afforded  to  him  a 
great  support  in  the  investigations  of  all  the  tangle 
around  the  strange  family  remnant. 

The  young  doctor  softly  followed  his  gentle  guide  over 
the  threshold  of  General  Romero's  sleeping  apartment. 
The  windows  were  open  in  the  great  airy  chamber  and 
the  rays  of  the  August  moon  struggled  victoriously 
with  the  gleam  of  a  silver  night  lamp.  Extended  on 
an  iron  military  couch,  the  General's  face  gleamed  thin 


28  HIS    CUBAN    SWEETHEART. 

and  yellow  in  the  half  shadow.  His  strongly  marked 
features  were  peaked  and  wan,  with  the  exhaustion  of 
his  excitement  and  the  relaxation  of  the  sedatives. 
His  flaccid  fingers  were  closed  upon  the  cherished 
golden  crucifix  which  had  received  his  wife's  last  kiss. 
A  murmured  "  Buenas  tardes,  mi  querido  Senor!" 
greeted  Doctor  Jim,  whose  digits  closed  upon  the  old 
refugee's  pulse. 

The  angular  shapes  of  the  veteran's  once  mighty 
frame  recalled  the  matchless  Spanish  infantry — that 
chivalry  which  broke  the  sway  of  the  mighty  Saracens 
of  Grenada.  It  spoke  the  heroes  of  Lepanto,  the  steel- 
clad  warriors  who  carried  Spain's  proud  flag  from  Italy 
to  the  Netherlands,  in  a  march  dwarfing  the  feasts  of 
Hannibal  and  the  great  Napoleon. 

As  Nixon  approached  his  couch  the  old  Don  opened 
his  eyes  and  with  a  few  words  of  welcome  beckoned 
him  to  a  seat. 

With  a  gentle  inclination  of  her  head  Inez  Romero 
left  leech  and  patient  alone;  led  by  love's  mys 
terious  clue  she  rejoined  Francis  Lorimer,  Esq.,  of 
Edgecliff,  who,  strange  to  relate,  "  had  much  to  say  to 
her  on  private  account." 

The  young  doctor  busied  himself  with  his  notebook, 
after  a  few  perfunctory  questions.  He  well  knew  the 
shy,  proud  Spanish  nature  shrinking  within  itself  at 
the  touch  of  the  intrusive  stranger.  No  mimosa  was 
ever  more  jealously  self-protective  in  instinct  than  the 
haughty  yet  gentle  Cuban  individuality. 

Bearing  the  burden  of  his  sorrows  alone,  wrapping 
Inez  in  the  mantle  of  a  tender  and  protecting  love,  the 
General  had  seen  with  vague  alarm  his  spirited,  idle 
son  drift  away  into  the  useless  circles  of  "  Do-nothing 
Young  America."  He  had  at  once  recognized  that 
the  needed  social  background  for  a  Romero  had  van 
ished.  Storm  and  battle,  splendid  vice-regal  courts, 
the  gilded  luxury  of  slavery. 

At  length  the  General,  resting  upon  his  elbow,  passed 
his  thin  hand  over  the  temples  still  throbbing  with  the 
vague  weariness  of  the  intensely  powerful  antispas- 
modis.  As  the  Don's  head  fell  back  helplessly,  Nixon 
leaned  over  him.  "Hijo  mio  !  "  murmured  the  General. 


HIS    CUBAN    SWEETHEART.  29 

"  I  must  be  ready  to  meet  Padre  Viciente  at  New  York 
Shall  I  be  better?  I  must  go." 

Doctor  Jim  calmed  the  wearied  sufferer.  "You 
will  be  up  in  a  few  days.  There  is  nothing  danger 
ous." 

"  Sea  por  Dios  y  la  Santissima  "  devoutly  murmured 
Romero,  crossing  himself.  "  For  the  Padre  brings  me 
tidings  of  great  moment.  I  must  go  to  him.  A  fortune 
— a  treasure — for  my  Inez." 

"  Let  me  be  your  man  of  affairs  as  well  as  physician, 
General,"  earnestly  replied  Nixon.  "Your  son  or 
some  one  sent  by  your  banker  must  meet  Padre 
Viciente  and  then  bring  him  up  to  you  here.  When 
does  he  arrive?  " 

"  In  four  days,"  whispered  the  don. 

"  Then  I  will  be  the  bearer  of  the  news  to  your  son, 
and  so  answer  for  the  Padre's  safe  arrival.  I  go  down 
to  New  York  as  soon  as  you  are  better,  and  I  will  gladly 
serve  you.'" 

"But  you  will  return,  my  son!"  the  veteran 
murmured.  "  I  have  that  to  tell  you  which  I  would 
have  the  young  Abogado  Don  Francisco  know!  He 
will  always  be  here  with  his  noble  mother  to  watch 
over  Inez,  for  alas!  Felipe  is  light  of  head  and  hard 
of  heart!  There  is  no  place  now  for  the  sons  of  Cuba! 
And  the  young  Lorimer  is  a  noble  youth." 

"  I  will  soon  return,  General,  and  I  would  now  sug 
gest  that  you  allow  me  to  telegraph  Don  Felipe  to  join 
young  Valdes  in  greeting  the  Padre!  "  The  physician 
was  earnest  and  very  anxious  to  follow  up  the  mystery. 

"Manafia!  Manaiia!"  sighed  Don  Jose!  "I  will 
now  tell  you  of  the  weighty  matters  pressing  on  my 
mind !  I  was  born  rich,  as  all  Cubans  of  rank  are,  and 
never  dreamed  that  care,  sorrow  and  ruin  would  cross 
in  victory  the  threshold  of  the  proud  Romero's.  Fiery 
and  ardent  I  was  sent  across  the  sea  to  Paris  by  my  father 
to  learn  the  first  lessons  of  life.  General  Tiburcio 
Romero  was  royal  commander  of  the  district  of  Matan- 
zas.  He  was  sternly  loyal  to  Spain,  and  his  unforgiving 
eyes  saw  unmoved  the  death  of  Lopez,  Crittenden  and 
the  mad  rebels  of  my  early  boyhood !  Absent  with  his 
troops  or  shining  in  the  stately  festivities  of  Concha's 


30  HIS    CUBAN    SWEETHEART. 

palace,  Don  Tiburcio  was  almost  a  stranger  to  me!  It 
was  my  mother  and  the  Priest  Fray  Anselmo,  who 
tamed  my  savage  nature,  already  spoiled  by  adula 
tion!"  He  groaned.  "Those  golden  years  of  young 
manhood  flitted  lightly  away  in  Paris!  There  was  then 
a  royal  court!  I  saw  the  downfall  at  last  of  Louis  Phil- 
lippe!  In  wine  and  wassail  I  rioted.  I  learned  the  use 
less  arts  of  the  man  of  the  world!  In  duel  and  intrigue 
— in  play  and  adventure,  "mad  "Romero  was  long 
remembered  on  the  Seine.  The  Spanish  ambassador 
himself  wrote  to  the  General  when  I  had  the  mal- 
adroitness  to  slay  in  duel,  a  la  barriere,  a  princely  Aus 
trian  attache !  in  a  quarrel  over  the  favors  of  the  charm 
ingly  light-heeled  but  worthless  Cerrito.  I  was  recalled 
to  Cuba. 

"  When  the  packet  achieved  its  tedious  voyage,  I 
hastened  at  once  to  Jibacoa!  They  showed  me  my 
mother's  grave  there  under  the  magnolias!  In  silence 
I  mourned,  for  I  knew  now  my  wild  conduct  had 
hastened  her  early  death!  Fray  Anselmo  gave  me  her 
last  messages  and  blessing!  My  father  sent  me  at 
once  a  commission  in  the  rifles,  and  for  three  years  I 
was  kept  busied  in  the  Sierras  of  the  Vuelta  Abajo 
chasing  runaway  slaves  and  contrabandistas!  They 
tell  yet  of  my  wild,  lonely  ride,  with  but  one  orderly, 
to  reach  my  brave  father's  death-bed.  He  had  been 
thrown  from  his  horse  on  parade.  A  bomb  hurled  by 
a  desperate  rebel  at  Captain  Concha  achieved  what  the 
bullets  of  the  foe  had  failed  to  effect!" 

The  old  man  sighed,  and  slowly  drank  a  cordial  as 
Nixon  observed  his  increasing  emotion! 

He  faltered  along  as  in  a  dream.  "There  was  some 
little  talk  of  my  gallantry  and  devotion  to  duty.  So, 
when  in  a  captain's  uniform,  I  knelt  beside  the  Gen 
eral's  death-bed,  he  gasped  a  blessing!  In  the  ante 
room,  Fray  Anselmo  waited  with  the  last  muniments  of 
the  Holy  Church,  but  the  iron-hearted  soldier  would 
fain  give  me  a  few  moments  of  a  fatherly  confidence 
long  withheld.  '  Jose  ! '  he  muttered,  '  My  son !  The 
last  of  the  Romero's.  The  curse  has  come  on  me! 
The  doom  of  the  excommunication !  Your  mother 
gone  before!  Your  brothers  and  sisters  cut  off  in  their 


HIS    CUBAN    SWEETHEART.  31 

flower  by  'el  vomito'!  My  own  untimely  end — the 
death  of  a  dog !'  We  are  doomed !'  " 

"'Listen,'  he  gasped.  'My  time  grows  short! 
There  is  a  leaden  box  of  papers!  For  you — for  you 
alone!  No  one  knows — for  I  hid  them  myself.  The 
story  of  the  Altar  Treasure  of  the  Maracaibo!  The 
history  of  the  mad  deeds  of  Fernando  Aguilar  de 
Romero,  who  carried  his  dark  secret  to  the  grave — for 
he  died  unshriven  !'  " 

"  '  I  never  broke  the  seals  of  the  story  of  the  shame 
of  a  race  of  Catholic  nobles!  "  my  gallant  father  mur 
mured,  "for  the  tradition  of  our  house  is  that  want 
and  woe,  that  exile  and  poverty  must  come  before  the 
voice  of  the  past  is  heard!  That  an  innocent  hand 
free  of  the  curse — the  hand  of  the  woman — the  last 
Romero  must  alone  break  the  fated  seal !  The  story  of 
a  murdered  priest  bearing  the  cross  of  Christ  on  his 
anointed  shoulders;  the  dark  history  of  the  plundered 
altars  of  Maracaibo;  the  hidden  emerald  treasures;  a 
king's  ransom,  the  spoils  of  the  Musicas  of  Bogota; 
the  hundred  years'  tribute  of  the  Canca  and  the 
Magdalena,  is  sealed  in  that  leaden  case!  As  you 
fear  a  father's  curse,  as  you  would  escape  the  doom  of 
all  Fernando's  heirs,  guard  this  secret  for  those  who 
take  up  one  burden  of  sorrow!  I  leave  you  rich! 
Marshal  Concha  will  advance  you!  Panchita  his 
fair  daughter's  eyes  kindle  even  now  at  your  name! 
She  has  not  forgotten  your  visit  when  you  brought 
the  ringleaders  of  the  slave  mutiny  captives  to  Havana! 
Bring  that  rose  of  women  here  to  Jibacoa  as  your 
wife!'" 

'  A  sudden  paleness  overspread  the  face  of  my  dying 
father.  I  sprang  to  his  side.  'The  box,  the  box!' 
I  cried.  His  hand  vainly  sought  my  head  in  a  bene 
diction.  '  It  is  under  the '  and  then  the  sharp 

death-rattle  cut  off  the  unspoken  message  of  our  fated 
race !  When  Fray  Anselmo  tried  to  lead  me  away,  I 
clasped  only  the  cold  hand  of  my  dead  father  in  my 
fevered  palm!  " 

Don  Jose  groaned,  as  he  whispered:  "He  had 
died  unconfessed,  unshriven,  with  the  secret  of 
three  centuries  locked  in  his  fearless  breast !  There 


32  HIS    CUBAN    SWEETHEART. 

was  gloom  in  my  heart  as  I  listened  to  the  chanting  of 
the  frightened  acolytes.  The  vain  pomp  of  a  public 
funeral  at  Havana  did  not  console  me.  I  had 
lost  my  father  on  the  threshold  of  a  budding  man 
hood — his  soul  wandered  in  purgatory — and  the  story 
of  the  past  seemed  an  overhanging  curse.  The 
treasure  is  lost  to  us  forever!  " 

The  old  Don  raised  his  weary  eyes  to  the  picture 
from  which  Panchita  Concha's  eyes  still  gazed  down  in 
undying  love  upon  the  lover  of  her  youth.  Tears 
slowly  trickled  through  the  veteran's  wasted  fingers  as 
he  brokenly  said :  "There  is  a  holy  of  holies!  I  can 
not  tell  you  of  the  paradise  which  she  made  for  me  in 
the  dark  old  home.  I  was  promoted,  was  trusted. 
Wealth  flowed  around  us.  Felipe  and  Inez  then  came 
to  gladden  the  halls  where  Concha's  bravest  general 
had  died  unshriven  even  as  died  the  accursed 
Fernando  Aguilar. 

"I  forgot  in  this  happiness  the  overhanging  doom. 
While  not  on  duty  I  vainly  spent  my  whole 
time  searching  for  the  leaden  box  hidden  by  my 
father's  hands.  It  seemed  to  me  that  if  I  could 
unravel  all  the  mystery  of  the  past  the  shadow  would 
be  lifted  at  last.  I  concealed  my  quest  from  all. 
Fray  Anselmo  slept  beside  his  gallant  patron,  and 
Viciente  Guerra,  a  man  of  singularly  vigorous  mind 
and  precocious  talent,  became  our  household  chaplain. 

"When  I  saw  that  sweet  Panchita  feared  my 
strange,  eccentric  ways — my  groping  over  the  old 
hacienda — I  then  gave  up  to  Viciente  Guerra  a  part 
of  my  secret.  He  has  carried  on  for  years  the  search 
and  now  works  alone.  Though  church  preferment  has 
often  been  offered  him  he  has  clung  to  my  ill-starred 
race.  Ah!"  groaned  the  enfeebled  General,  "the 
awakening  came  all  too  soon.  In  that  year  of  mad 
revolution  of  'forty-eight'  the  Cadmus  teeth  were 
sowed  over  the  world.  I  feared  to  own  my  thoughts 
to  a  living  soul.  I  even  concealed  in  confession,  God 
forgive  me."  And  the  sufferer  beat  his  breast.  "The 
oaths  I  had  once  taken,  awful  oaths,  my  memory 
shudderingly  brings  them  back  now,  of  fidelity  to  a 
mad  dream  of  Cuba  Libre. 


HIS   CUBAN    SWEETHEART.  33 

"As  a  Spanish  officer  of  Concha's  staff,  as  a  mem 
ber  of  his  military  family,  when  I  rode  out  in  the 
moonlight  to  join  the  armed  rebels  in  the  field,  I  stood 
at  last  under  the  curse  which  descended  from  our  mad 
dened  ancestor,  the  Buccaneer  of  Maracaibo.  I  dare 
not  own  how  the  secret  emissaries  taunted  me  to  the 
freed,  with  accusations  of  cowardice.  I  was  young — 
my  blood  was  hot.  I  had  been  entangled  in  Paris;  but 
behind  me  I  left  that  angel  from  whose  clinging  arms  I 
tore  away  to  become  a  desperate  rebel — at  the  call  of 
a  shadowy  secret  society  which  claimed  me  body  and 
soul.  The  frightful  folly  of  youth." 

James  Nixon's  eyes  were  riveted  on  the  old  man 
whose  eyes  now  gleamed  with  the  reflected  tenderness 
of  the  dear  dead  days.  The  young  physician  gently 
brushed  the  clammy  drops  from  the  old  Don's  brow. 

"  I  lost  her — that  was  the  stroke  of  all;  my  friend. 
For  a  time — only  for  a  time ;  for  I  go  to  join  her  soon. 
You  have  seen  Inez,  pabrecita,  alma  de  mi  vida  !  " 

There  was  a  transcendant  smile  on  the  General's 
pale  face.  "She  must  have  friends  to  love  her  after 
I  am  gone.  You  will  soon  know  Felipe,  poor  boy. 
The  unfortunate  lad  was  raised  in  scenes  of  blood  and 
terror.  Noble  old  Concha  spared  my  children.  He 
sent  them  to  me — after  my  escape.  I  was  old,  broken 
and  saddened  and  wretched,  but  he  gave  me  my 
children  to  soften  the  gloom  of  all  these  years  of 
exile.  Viciente  Guerra  brought  them  here  secretly. 
Concha  could  not  stay  the  proscription  and  the  bitter 
confiscation.  I  have  nearly  exhausted  all  the  funds 
which  I  had  placed  in  Munoz's  hands.  The  Padre  has 
smuggled  out  a  few  mementos  saved  from  the  thieving 
Spanish  soldiery;  but  thanks  be  to  the  Virgin."  The 
old  man  drew  out  a  letter:  "Guerra  has  now  found 
the  lost  box.  Under  the  altar  of  the  old  chapel  which 
was  wrecked  lately  in  an  earthquake  Fernando 
Aguilar  had  stored  the  fated  secret.  I  live  but  to  gain 
once  more  the  pardon  of  the  church.  For  my  Inez's 
hand  will  be  the  stainless  one.  I  will  atone.  The 
curse  will  pass  away.  The  emeralds  !  the  emeralds!  " 

Then  the  doctor  bent  over  his  patient,  who  sank 
back  senseless. 


34  HIS   CUBAN    SWEETHEART. 

CHAPTER  III. 

THE    VEILED    SECRET    OF    THE    LEADEN    CASKET. 

Two  days  later,  Mrs.  Agnes  Lorimer,  serenely  happy, 
listened  to  Dr.  Nixon's  triumphant  account  of  Don 
Josh's  rapid  amelioration. 

But  one  pang  rent  the  heart  of  the  proud,  young 
physician.  He  was  ready  to  depart  on  the  morrow 
with  the  lank,  old,  yellow  shadow,  Basilio,  to  drum  up 
the  two  flighty  young  Cubans  and  hasten  the  padre's 
coming.  To  obtain  his  own  month's  leave  wis  a  mere 
formality,  but  to  leave,  for  even  three  short  days,  Miss 
Ethel  filled  his  bosom  with  most  unwarranted  mis 
givings. 

"It  is  certain,"  said  Mrs.  Lorimer,  "that  the  Don 
needs  counsel  and  friendship.  He  is  as  simple  as  a 
child,  and  it  is  to  you,"  she  gazed  on  the  two  ardent 
young  men,  "to  you  alone  he  can  look  for  loyal  back 
ing.  Munoz  is  liable  to  the  temptations  of  the  Spanish 
Government.  The  priest  I  never  liked,  and  I  feel  that 
we  three  women  will  find  our  metier  in  watching  him 
The  young  men,  Felipe  and  Juan,  are  practically  use 
less.  So  General  Romero  must  look  to  us  for  the 
support  which  will  lead  him  to  his  shadowy  emerald 
crown." 

To  cheer  the  recluse,  Frank  Lorimer  had  promised 
to  remain  as  his  companion.  Sundry  thoughts  of  Inez's 
dainty  fingers  waking  the  chords  of  her  guitar  made 
Lorimer  quite  resigned  to  his  term  of  homeguard  duty. 
And,  later,  there  was  a  perfect  Nirvana  of  satisfaction 
on  the  gravely  professional  face  of  Dr.  Nixon  as  he 
"threw  physic  to  the  dogs,"  and  hovered  in  the  draw 
ing-room  while  Miss  Ethel  intoned  a  ditty  exactly 
suited  to  his  fond  imaginings. 

"  I  need  no  moon  or  stars  to  guide  me!  "  its  some 
what  florid  words  began.  They  took  a  new  significance 
when  borne  aloft  on  the  waves  of  that  fresh  young 


HIS    CUBAN    SWEETHEART.  35 

voice  and  seemed  to  beat  at  the  very  gates  of  Doctor 
Jim's  soul. 

Next  morning,  with  many  flourishes  of  diplomatic 
courtesy  and  some  measured  sage  counsel  of  a  soothing 
nature,  he  left  the  General  waving  his  sombrero  like 
the  banner  of  Spain  in  the  hands  of  a,  champion  as  he 
drove  away  to  the  station  with  old  Basilio  sitting 
behind  him  in  the  dogcart,  his  unsubstantial  nankeens 
flapping  over  his  shrunken  shanks — his  air  of  resigned 
melancholy — the  faded  grace  of  self-surrender  to  a 
master's  will  recalling  the  days  of  Cervantes.  The 
old  servitor  rolled  his  cigarito  in  storm  and  sunshine, 
submitting  himself  to  the  care  of  God. 

His  bearing  was  that  of  the  ark,  with  the  manners 
of  the  seventeenth  century,  and  yet,  in  his  own 
dreamy,  listless  way,  he  rattled  around  like  an 
animated  skeleton,  noiselessly  anticipating  the  slightest 
wish  of  the  one  he  served. 

"  I  hope  you  will  not  see  any  of  your  medical 
friends  in  the  train,"  laughed  Frank.  "They  will 
accuse  you  of  galvanizing  a  corpse  from  the  Cathedral 
churchyard  of  La  Habana. " 

"  He  is  a  funny  old  relic,"  muttered  Doctor  James, 
whose  mind  was  intent  upon  the  euphony  of  Ethel 
Nixon,  as  a  matron's  name  in  the  days  to  come.  The 
happy  days!  When  patients  with  plethoric  purse  and 
judiciously  variegated  disorders  would  throng  his  ante 
rooms. 

And  so  it  was  that  in  a  happy  daydream  Doctor  Nixon 
reached  his  office  in  Gotham.  He  had  even  now  a  local 
habitation  and  a  name  in  modest  gilded  letters. 
Unfortunate  wanderers  might  here  discern  that  "James 
Nixon  "  sported  M.  D.  by  virtue  of  private  worth  and 
due  public  license. 

Doctor  William  Abercromby,  who  shared  Nixon's 
office,  shouted  in  glee  as  his  friend  entered  followed  by 
Basilio.  Abercromby  was  an  ingenious  youth,  a  friend 
of  friends,  whose  one  treason  to  Jimmy  Nixon  was  the 
secret  capture  of  the  first  patient.  It  is  true  that  Aber 
cromby  only  gravely  shook  his  watchchain  and  bowed 
as  the  sufferer,  with  trembling  hand  clattering  the 
knob,  asked,  humbly:  "  Is  the  doctor  in  ?" 


36  HIS    CUBAN    SWEETHEART. 

'Twas  a  youth,  resplendent  the  day  before  when  hfc 
sallied  forth  with  crimson  colors  and  hope  in  his  heart — 
good  store  of  the  green  shekels  of  the  realm  in  his 
pocket — to  see  the  "football  game."  "  Standing  with 
reluctant  feet, "  the  patient  could  merely  confess  that 
he  had  a  "fearful  head  on  him."  In  exchange  for  a 
crisp  five-dollar  bill,  he  received  the  secret  sympathy  oi 
Doctor  Abercromby  and  the  just  proportions  of  a  dose 
of  bromide,  preceded  by  the  cabalistic  R,  and  proudly 
followed  by  the  menacing  flourish  of  "William  Aber^ 
cromby,  M.  D." 

Then  the  generous  traitor,  after  debating  upon  the 
propriety  of  framing  this  "  firstling  of  fortune,"  "blew 
it  in  "  with  his  great  colleague,  Nixon.  And  the  mantle 
of  Elisha  and  that  of  Elijah  were  both  cut  after  the 
same  pattern. 

The  patient  Basilio  was  sent  forth  with  carefully  ar 
ranged  orders  how  to  gather  in  young  Felipe  and  Juan, 
two  boys  whose  principal  duty  in  life  was  vacantly  gaz 
ing  over  the  footlights  of  the  Casino  and  Koster  &  Bial's ; 
their  soft,  fierce,  panther-like  eyes  glowing  approvingly 
upon  various  members  of  the  star-kicking  ballet,  who 
had  dubbed  the  two  lads  "Partaga"  and  "  Henry  Clay. " 

Doctor  Nixon  sat  all  the  afternoon  at  the  feet  of 
one  of  those  men  simply  great  and  modestly  cautious, 
who  hold  up  the  grandest  of  all  professions,  far  above 
its  quacks,  pretenders  and  itinerants. 

"My  dear  Nixon,"  said  the  expert,  "  you  interest 
me  in  this  case.  There  is  either  a  truth  or  a  fiction 
here.  From  what  you  tell  me  of  the  refined  spiritual 
ity  of  the  old  Don,  you  must  beware  how  you  suddenly 
sweep  away  the  dreams  which 'have  haunted  his  dark 
ened  soul!  A  rude  shock  might  overthrow  the  old 
General's  mind.  A  bitter  disappointment  would  simply 
crumble  him  up  in  a  lifeless  heap.  Your  role  is  more 
that  of  a  watchman  than  a  physician!" 

After  a  long  consultation,  reinforced  by  his  senior's 
experience,  Doctor  James  returned  to  his  office,  where 
he  found  Basilio  the  wise,  gliding  furtively  about  the 
hallway,  lest  by  the  way  of  the  nearest  saloon  the 
thoughtless  youths  whom  he  had  succeeded  in  finding 
would  gravitate  back  to  the  "Tenderloin!" 


HIS   CUBAN    SWEETHEART.  37 

A  small  pagan  in  dirty  blue  and  an  unnecessarily 
large  cap  handed  Doctor  Jim  a  telegram  from  the 
Merchants' Exchange  agency.  Its  contents,  "Steamer 
'  Santiago  de  Cuba '  coming  in  passed  Sandy  Hook  3  P.M. 
At  wharf  at  nine,"  decided  the  young  man  with  two 
saffron  colored  elephants  on  his  hands  to  take  these 
eel-like  captives  to  the  club  for  dinner! 

"Noblesse  oblige!"  he  murmured.  "They  cannot 
run  away  from  the  table!" 

Nixon  had  an  opportunity  to  quietly  examine  the 
youngsters  while  he  closed  his  slender  office  duties. 
There  was  no  doubt  as  to  "which  was  the  merchant  and 
which  the  Jew!"  Though  Felipe  Romero  was  as  point 
edly  listless  as  his  companion,  his  spirited  graceful 
face  with  its  oval  curves,  his  soft  manner,  proud  and 
yet  winning,  his  elegant  figure  and  delicate  hands 
marked  him  as  the  caballero.  He  was  evidently  led  by 
his  ame  damne'e  Juan  Valdes,  a  robust,  heavy  set  youth, 
with  high  cheek  bones,  a  malignant  scowl  and  the  halt 
ing,  hesitating  manner  of  the  mestizo — half  sycophant, 
half  spy.  The  gleaming  white  teeth,  heavy  jaw  and 
oblique  eyes,  with  a  long,  muscular  arm,  showed  a  dash 
of  the  wild  blood  of  the  Sierra  Indians.  Nixon  smiled 
as  he  verified  the  furtive  glance  and  peering  manners 
of  Juan. 

"A  heredity  of  bending  around  the  tree  trunk  to 
throw  the  spear  or  shoot  the  bow.  A  modern  savage 
but  half  tamed.  If  the  uncle  resembles  the  nephew  he 
is  by  no  means  a  prototype  of  Sandalphon,  the  angel 
of  prayer,"  mused  Doctor  Jim.  "A  sort  of  ghostly 
confessor  who  might  '  stand  the  sinner  up  '  in  a  dark 
place  on  earth  and  go  through  him,  before  consigning 
his  spiritual  elements  to  the  rotary  furnaces  of  the 
place  Mr.  Beecher  'took  no  stock  in.'  Yet,  rugged 
and  intelligent  enough.  I  may  mistake  the  sturdy 
cross-blood  for  a  malignant  strain." 

Tobacco,  that  great  civilizer  and  open  sesame  of 
friendship,  brought  them  all  on  the  plane  of  an  easy 
modus  vivendi,  while  waiting  for  the  "Santiago  de 
Cuba  "  to  dock. 

"  There  is  my  uncle,"  suddenly  blurted  out  Juan  .as 
he  lurched  forward  to  the  side  of  a  heavily  built,  dark- 


38  HIS   CUBAN    SWEETHEART. 

faced  man  of  middle  age.  The  broad-brimmed  straw 
hat,  long  alpaca  coat  and  Roman  collar  bespoke  the 
priest  on  his  travels. 

"Your  father  ?"  demanded  Padre  Viciente  Guerra 
in  a  tone  of  authority,  turning  to  Felipe,  as  Juan  laid 
hands  listlessly  upon  the  stout  bag  in  the  priest's  hand.' 

"He  has  been  sick.  He  is  all  right  now, "  carelessly 
said  Felipe.  "  This  gentleman  is  his  physician,  and 
has  a  message  for  you." 

The  padre  bowed  with  attentive  humility.  The  sul 
len  brow,  the  determined  chin,  the  bold,  high  cheek 
bone  of  the  nephew  were  there,  but  dark  lights  deep 
ened  the  ugly  glint  of  the  padre's  eyes.  In  one  side 
long  sweep  he  had  sized  up  the  young  American,  and 
Nixon  felt  the  shiver  which  the  touch  of  a  serpent 
brings. 

"  One  of  the  wise  ones — the  dangerous  ones — a  man 
in  whom  there  is  no  mercy, — if  no  guile,"  decided 
Doctor  Jim,  and  their  instinctively  hostile  natures  rec 
ognized  a  born  feud  of  antagonism.  "There  is  the 
brazen  corselet  beneath  the  strong  man's  gown," 
decided  Nixon,  and  the  alarm  clock  of  his  nature  was 
ringing  out,  "Beware  !"  before  the  two  seniors  had 
exchanged  a  few  words  of  mutual  explanation.  Then 
Nixon  frankly  said:  "Padre  Viciente,  have  you  the 
missing  papers  ?  It  is  almost  vital  to  Don  Jose's  cure 
that  you  should  join  him  at  once.  We  might  take  the 
midnight  train  and  you  could  be  with  him  in  the  morn 
ing.  I  will  go  back  with  you." 

The  priest  replied  evasively  and  coldly:  "I  need 
rest.  I  am  also  charged  with  some  missions  of  the 
Church.  I  must  go  now  to  the  hotel  frequented  by 
the  foreign  clergy.  Moreover,  the  tidings  of  Los 
Olmos  are  for  the  ear  of  Don  Jos£  alone." 

Doctor  Nixon  had  not  caught  the  full  chilling  offen- 
siveness  of  the  father's  manner.  The  mestizo's  pride 
had  been  hardened  by  domination  over  the  flock  which 
lingered  near  the  vacant  halls  of  "  Los  Olmos." 

"  But  he  has  told  me  all,"  cordially  insisted  Nixon. 

"Then,  Senor,  there  rests  nothing  for  me  to  say, " 
defiantly  remarked  the  padre.  "  I  will  go  alone  to  my 
inn,  and  to-morrow  night  I  will  arrive  at  Villa  Romero. 


HIS    CUBAN    SWEETHEART.  39 

You  may  say  so,  if  you  return  to  my  friend — and  your 
patient." 

James  Nixon's  face  flushed,  but  he  restrained  any 
impatient  retort,  thinking  it  would  be  a  poor  debut  to 
quarrel  with  this  insolent  cleric.  "And  why  should  I? 
Jealous  and  proud  of  his  success,  he  may  wish  yet  to 
reign  over  the  hacienda  of  Los  Olmosat  Jibacoa  !  He 
may  yet  long  for  the  time  when  the  Romeros  may  reign 
in  the  old  prestige  !  " 

So  Nixon  gently  said:  "As  you  will.  I  only  wish 
to  have  the  General's  mind  relieved  as  soon  as  possi 
ble.  Shall  I  leave  these  young  men  with  you  ?  For  I 
return  to  Edgecliff  early  to-morrow." 

<lYes,  my  friend,"  rather  pleasantly  answered  the 
mollified  padre.  I  need  to  discipline  this  wild  truant, 
Juan.  As  for  Felipe,  there  is  much  he  can  tell  me,  which 
will  spare  fatigue  to  Don  Jose.  General  Romero  is  my 
penitent.  What  he  tells  you  of  his  secret  is  his  to  give. 
What  I  might  say  would  be  an  indiscretion,  perhaps 
a  treason." 

Doctor  Nixon  was  nonplussed.  The  oily  fluency  of 
the  stubborn  looking  padre  showed  him  a  master  of 
human  diplomacy.  Though  ruling  a  small  world,  his 
flock  an  humble  one,  yet  the  wary  duplicity  of  Spanish 
official  life,  the  easy  winking  blindness  of  the  Cuban 
social  entoinage,  the  play  of  the  ardent  passions  of 
three  generations,  trembling  under  his  voice,  gave  to 
Viciente  Guerra  the  whole  range  of  that  wonderful 
theatre — the  human  heart.  And  as  master,  backed 
with  the  thunders  of  the  Church,  he  reigned  over  the 
seething  whirlpool  of  human  passions  by  the  silver 
sands  of  Matanzas  Bay. 

Nixon  saw  that  the  priest  knew  his  power.  He 
turned  and  left  them  in  the  night,  the  boys  lurking 
with  eyes  eager  for  escape  near  the  stern  padre,  who 
now  clutched  the  substantial  portmanteau  which  Juan 
had  listlessly  thrown  down  under  a  pile  of  cigar  boxes, 
parroquet  cages,  bananas  and  the  worthless  travel 
trash  with  which  tourists  will  make  themselves  guys. 
Standing  there  in  the  surging  throng  of  hotel  cabmen 
and  custom  officials,  Viciente  Guerra  guarded  in  his 
broad  strong  hand  the  precious  deposit  which  the 


40  HIS   CUBAN    SWEETHEART. 

earthquake  shock  had  exposed  in  its  hiding  place  under 
the  altar  of  Jibacoa. 

"They  are  a  nice  lot  of  picturesque  vignettes  of 
Cuban  development,"  muttered  Nixon.  "  Never  mind, 
I  will  keep  my  weather  eye  fixed  on  you,  mi  padre 
querido. " 

And  Doctor  Jim  calmly  said :  "  Hasta  Manana  !  "  and 
went  off  alone  to  dream  of  Ethel  Lorimer,  the  golden- 
haired. 

The  next  day  while  Nixon  lingered  in  the  hours 
of  a  summer  afternoon  preparing  the  now  wildly-excited 
General  for  the  momentous  interview,  he  listened  to 
the  gentle  cooing  of  Lorimer  and  Inez  on  the  sheltered 
veranda. 

Madame  Lorimer  and  Ethel  had  learned  in  a  brief 
council  of  the  guarded  coldness  of  the  padre.  "That's 
his  way,"  lightly  remarked  Frank.  "  A  sort  of  human 
dagger,  he  gets  into  one's  heart  and  works  around 
to  make  a  place  for  himself." 

"  Yes, "  said  the  gentle  widow;  "he  is  a  powerful 
man,  of  self-control,  and  one  whom  I  distrust — a  man 
always  to  be  watched,  and  who  could  be  dangerous, 
too,  I  fear." 

"  Gracias  a  Dies!  He  has  come!  "  cried  Don  Jose", 
striding  up  and  down  the  room  in  his  restless  march. 
"I  shall  soon  know  all.  Why  did  he  not  come  right 
up  here  with  you  ?  " 

Nixon  very  fairly  reported  the  priest's  official  neces 
sities,  but  was  unable  to  add  that  at  that  very  moment 
Padre  Viciente  Guerra  and  the  Spanish  Consul-Gen- 
eral  were  double  locked  in  the  library  of  that  official's 
residence  in  New  York.  When  the  priest  rose  to 
depart  for  the  train  the  Consul-General  whispered :  "If 
you  succeed,  if  you  are  true  to  us,  you  will  yet  be  the 
Bishop  of  Matanzas.  A  glittering  promotion!  " 

And  so  at  last  all  the  secrets  of  the  leaden  casket,  and 
some  others  untold  for  years,  arrived  with  the  black- 
browed  padre,  who  strode  over  the  threshold  of  Villa 
Romero  with  the  air  of  a  master  at  the  late  hour  of 
ten  that  night.  He  had  brought  the  two  young  wolves 
of  Tenderloin  society  back,  awed  if  not  tamed,  and, 
with  a  perfunctory  greeting  of  parental  blandness,  he 


HIS   CUBAN    SWEETHEART.  41 

passed  Inez  over  to  the  welcome  society  of  El  Senor 
Abogado  Lorimer.  There  was  a  quiet  relegation  to 
his  professional  sphere,  in  the  attitude  of  the  priest 
to  Nixon. 

Then,  amid  the  unwonted  bustle  of  the  lonely  house, 
the  sound  of  earnest  voices  was  audible  until  two 
o'clock  in  Don  Jose's  own  sleeping  room.  The  padre 
was  lodged  in  a  chamber  adjoining,  and  the  doctor 
at  last,  fearful  of  harm  and  wearied  out,  called  a  halt, 
and,  entering  authoritatively,  sent  the  old  General  to 
his  nightly  rest. 

The  eyes  of  the  veteran  shone  out  in  a  dangerous 
brilliancy, — his  hand  was  fevered,  as  he  whispered, 
with  superstitious  subjection:  "Come  to  me  early, 
my  son.  I  will  then  tell  you  all." 

Padre  Viciente  had  now  donned  his  long  black  robe — 
the  invincible  armor  of  the  Church — and  flitted  along 
like  a  ghostly  spectre  to  his  room,  in  silence,  with  a 
grave  inclination  of  his  head.  In  a  moment  his  voice 
was  heard  in  the  routine  of  his  breviary, — and  secure 
within  his  fortified  lines,  the  Cuban  padre  was  thus 
ready  to  take  up  the  fight  which  priests  and  doctors 
have  waged  from  time  immemorial  in  the  gloomy  arr,  )hi- 
theater  of  the  rooms  of  the  sick,  the  dying  and  the 
dead.  For,  between  them,  they  have — always— -the 
last  word. 

The  old  manor  house  of  Edgecliff  sheltered  tour 
weary  heads  that  night,  twisting  uneasily  on  their  pil 
lows.  To  Nixon's  astonishment  when  Frank  Lorimer 
reined  up  the  Mambrino  mare  at  the  door,  the  mother 
and  daughter  were  hovering  still  awake  in  the  great 
hallway  like  Peris  on  guard  at  the  forbidden  gates. 

"  Tell  us  !  tell  us  !  "  cried  both  ladies  in  a  breath. 

Dr.  Nixon  gravely  replied,  "To-morrow." 

It  was  a  hard  fate, — a  poor  return  for  all  their 
watchful  sympathy.  Mrs.  Lorimer  nodded  away 
bedward  murmuring,  "  I  do  not  like  this  delay." 
While  Ethel  pouteda  "good  morning,"  in  place  of  a 
"good  night."  "I  only  hope  the  dear  old  Don 
will  surely  find  the  emeralds, — and  that  Inez  will  have 
bushels  of  gold." 

This  hearty  exaggeration  of  schoolmate  love  made 


42  HIS    CUBAN    SWEETHEART. 

James  Nixon  smile  as  he  laid  his  tired  head  upon  his 
pillow. 

"I  shall  have  trouble  with  the  padre!"  grumbled 
Doctor  Jim,  as  he  hurled  his  raiment  all  around  in  the 
wild  freedom  of  the  bachelor.  "But  I  will  make  it  a 
waiting  fight!  So,  go  in  now  brother  Viciente,  and 
take  the  first  innings!  " 

He  was  slightly  startled  on  approaching  Villa 
Romero  the  next  morning  at  the  sound  of  irregular 
fusillade  in  the  sheltered  grounds  of  the  old  mansion. 
He  turned  inquiring  eyes  to  Frank,  who  said  with  an 
air  of  experience:  "Only  those  two  young  Cuban 
devils  practicing  with  their  revolvers  !  Now  cometh 
the  sons  of  Belial;  for  the  farmers  in  a  radius  of  ten 
miles  know  these  two  imps  of  Satan !  Two  things  they 
can  do — smoke  endless  cigarettes,  and  ride  the  horses 
picked  up  in  the  pastures,  half  to  death ;  for  a  hair 
"riata"  noose  serves  them  to  manage  any  four  legged 
thing  in  sight.  The  old  General  will  have  a  soulful 
time.  Between  the  black  raven  perching  at  his  side, 
keeping  up  his  croak  of  the  olden  days,  and  this  picket 
guard  of  the  devil,  his  nerves  will  soon  settle  for  good 
— over  there!  " 

And  Frank  pointed  to  the  gleaming  tombstones  of 
the  Fishkill  village  cemetery,  as  he  flicked  the  Mam- 
brino  racing  along  in  the  crisp  summer  morning. 
"I've  an  idea,  Buster,  ne  quietly  said,  "that  you  had 
better  let  Padre  Viciente  have  the  cards  and  the  deal! 
Pardon  my  profane  simile !  Play  a  waiting  game !  The 
cloven  foot  will  peep  out  from  under  that  flapping  robe 
at  last!  I'll  have  Inez  put  old  Basilic  on  also  to  watch 
the  priest,  for  the  old  spectral  servant  is  '  muy 
sabbio,'  and  don't  you  forget  it!  " 

"What  do  you  fear,  Frank  ?"  questioned  Nixon. 

"I'll  tell  you,"  sharply  said  Lorimer,  "I  propose 
to  see  that  Inez  gets  all  that  belongs  to  her, — in  law 
and  right." 

The  rogue  blushed  and  then  closely  examined  his 
whip  stock.  "This  man  has  too  much  vim  for  a 
padre.  For  him  to  live  without  a  purpose  would  be  an 
impossibility.  I  know  what  occupancy  and  enjoy 
ment  mean.  Now  Padre  Viciente  (I  speak  after  the 


HIS    CUBAN    SWEETHEART.  43 

manner  of  the  flesh)  is  a  '  big-bug  '  down  there  on 
the  coral  reefs  of  Matanzas,  and  'rules  the  roost' 
just  as  long  as  Don  Jose  is  proscribed.  Vale  Don 
Jose! — where  Felipe  and  Inez  come  in!  Felipe  will  die 
of  a  knife  thrust,  or  in  some  uncanny  way.  He 
fears  nothing — but  any  form  of  useful  work.  Inez 
will  then  be  helpless.  The  ultimate  destination  of  the 
Romero  estates  is  to  enrich  the  Church,  the  viceregal 
treasury,  and  the  collateral  family  of  the  padre.  He 
will  meantime  enjoy  it — in  their  name." 

"You  maybe  correct,"  said  the  laughing  doctor. 
"There  is  a  sweet  serenity  in  Padre  Viciente's  smile 
which  tells  me  he  will  be  heard  from,  when  the  subject 
is  dissected." 

"  Right  you  are!  "  remarked  Frank.  "  And  he  will 
want  the  best  slice.  "Do  you  note  how  the  padre 
sprung  to  his  work,  like  a  star  actor  belated  in  arriv 
ing  at  a  '  one-night  stand  '  ?  " 

"Yes.  He  layeth  hold  with  his  hands — like  the 
spider  which  is  in  king's  palaces,"  gloomily  remarked 
Nixon.  "  And  Inez — will  she  not  work  against  these 
possible  schemes  ?  " 

Frank  Lorimer  burst  out:  "She  is  the  simplest, 
dearest,  sweetest,  most  unsuspecting  " 

"Skip  all  that! "  sternly  said  Nixon.  "  Keep  to  the 
solid  facts." 

Then  Lorimer's  eyes  gleamed  wrathfully  as  he 
descended  again  to  earth.  "The  padre  will  go  through 
that  simple-minded  girl's  store  of  knowledge  like 
a  burglar  into  a  bank  vault.  She  can  only  trust,  love 
and  suffer.  And,  besides,  you  see  Felipe  is  no  earthly 
good." 

Nixon  bowed.  "  Save  to  the  jewelers,  florists  and 
tobacco  merchants  of  New  York  and  the  chorus  of 
the  Casino.  You  and  I  must  stand  by  the  old  Don 
for" 

There  was  a  silence,  in  which  the  free  hands  clasped 
and  the  hiatus  could  have  been  filled  by  the  bracketed 
insertion: 

Inez's 


Ethel's  f  Sake! 
I  must  trust  all  to  your  coolness,"  whispered.  Lcn- 


44  HIS   CUBAN    SWEETHEART. 

mer,  as  Inez,  tenderly  clinging  to  her  father's  arm, 
came  out  to  them. 

"  Papa  is  so  eager — so  excited !  I  am  so  happy  that 
you  are  here !  "  she  cried,  while  her  animated  face 
expressed  far  more  than  her  words. 

In  five  minutes  James  Nixon  had  led  the  Don  to  a 
shaded  nook  under  the  chestnuts,  where  he  trifled  with 
a  morning  coffee,  while  the  General  began  his  relation. 

"  I  feel  myself  ten  years  younger,  hijo  mio .'"  exult 
antly  chuckled  the  veteran.  "It  is  a  wonder — a 
wonder  of  the  Blessed  Virgin!  In  my  absence  Padre 
Viciente  has  had  the  entire  control  of  the  whole  plan 
tations  as  well  as  the  house  of  'Los  Olmos.'  A 
government  overseer  and  a  guard  sent  by  the  Alcalde 
of  Jibacoa  have  attended  to  the  making  of  the  sugar 
crop,  and  prevented  all  further  spoliation.  In  these 
long  years  my  untiring  friend  has  vainly  searched  for 
the  faintest  trace  of  family  papers  undiscovered.  For 
all  the  archives,  save  the  Paris  records,  were  removed 
and  despoiled  by  the  legal  authorities  of  the  Crown 
at  Havana.  Nothing — nothing  rewarded  Viciente's 
examination  of  every  piece  of  old  furniture,  of  all  the 
rooms;  even  the  wainscot  and  floors  has  he  probed 
with  care.  When  the  great  earthquake  of  last  month 
came,  however,  the  first  thought  of  the  good  priest 
was  to  run  to  the  chapel  where  the  frightened  women 
and  children  had  all  gathered.  There  the  l.igh  altar 
was  lying  prone.  It  had  fallen  backward,  and,  marvel 
of  marvels,  none  of  the  sacred  vessels  or  its  treasures 
were  seriously  injured. 

"The  displaced  stones  of  the  three  steps  unheaved 
showed  a  small  crypt  beneath  the  altar,  which  had 
been  reached  by  a  trench  through  the  foundations  of 
the  rear  wall.  This  had  caused  the  overturning  of 
the  altar,  while  the  chapel  itself  stood  firm.  The  good 
padre,  clearing  the  church  for  the  rearrangement  of 
the  sacred  objects,  alone  approached  the  ruined 
shrine.  Astonished,  he  beheld  within  the  exposed 
crypt  a  stone  block,  apparently  hollow,  but  closed  by 
a  slab.  He  thought  the  stone  receptacle  perhaps  con 
tained  the  ashes  of  the  dead ;  but  the  shattered  slab  dis 
closed  a  flat  leaden  casket  or  case.  It  was  still  firmly 


HIS    CUBAN    SWEETHEART.  45 

clamped,  riveted  and  sealed.  This  precious  deposit  he 
has  brought  to  me  intact.  It  was  a  struggle  of  con 
science  with  my  friend.  But  his  fidelity  to  the  Rome 
ros  at  last  triumphed.  The  origin  of  the  secrets 
there  hidden  date  far  back,  beyond  my  own  outlawry  or 
proscription!  For  even  Fernando  Aguilar  was  amnes 
tied  in  his  capacity  as  noble  and  warrior,  and  only 
took  the  common  ban  of  the  '  Maracaibo  anathema 
maranatha  '  to  the  grave  with  him!  So,  under  pretense 
of  effecting  the  repairs  to  the  consecrated  chapel, 
Padre  Viciente  came  to  me  with  the  unvoiced  story  of 
the  past!  We  opened  the  case  together  last  night!  " 

"And  you  know  all  now?"  eagerly  asked  Doctor 
Nixon. 

"Alas!  my  son,"  groaned  the  feeble  General,  whose 
clock  of  life  was  now  running  slowly  under  the  relaxed 
excitement,  "I  know  but  half  the  story!  The  docu 
ment  is  in  the  obscure  old  Spanish  The  only  thing 
found  in  the  case,  save  a  jewel  which  we  estimated  to 
be  of  great  value!  Padre  Viciente  suggests  its  being 
sent  to  Spain  to  be  compared  with  documents  of  the 
time  by  the  priests  of  the  church.  I  will  leave  it  with 
you  to  examine!  Perhaps  your  young  eyes  may  dis 
cover  some  key  word !  I  see  the  padre  is  beckoning 
to  me!  It  is  the  hour  for  my  morning  devotions — so 
long  interrupted!  "  And  the  veteran  tenderly  placed  a 
folded  document  wrapped  in  folds  of  silk  upon  the 
table. 

Doctor  Jim's  hands  trembled  nervously  as  he  unrolled 
the  covering!  By  hazard  his  eyes  strayed  to  the 
veranda,  where  the  padre  stood  glaring  at  his  profes- 
fessional  opponent  from  the  door.  There  was  no  mis 
taking  the  reluctance  with  which  the  priest  followed 
the  tottering  old  General  into  the  house! 

"  I  must  be  a  lively-witted  man,  or  this  padre  will 
close  and  bar  the  door  of  the  past.  Once  in  his  hands, 
the  paper  might  be  kept  from  me.  If  sent  to  Spain,  it 
may  be  artfully  lost  on  the  voyage.  Dare  I  copy  it  ? 
Have  I  the  right  ?  And  I  might  even  then  miss  the 
key-note  of  the  hidden  mystery." 

He  reverently  handled  the  four  sheets  of  parchment 
which  bore,  in  antique  Spanish  flourishes,  the  sign 


46  HIS    CUBAN    SWEETHEART. 

manual  of  the  unfortunate  Fernando  Aguilar.  The  ink 
was  black  and  the  quill  made  characters  still  sharp  and 
clear.  He  retired  into  a  summer-house  and  spread  out 
the  silken  scarf  on  a  table,  carefully  depositing  the  four 
leaves  thereon.  The  rattle  of  wheels  aroused  him. 

"Where  are  you  going,  Frank?"  he  called  to  his 
chum. 

"To  the  village  with  Miss  Romero,"  replied  Lori- 
mer.  "  I  am  going  to  see  the  photographer.  I  want 
some  scenes  and  groups  taken." 

Doctor  Nixon  sprang  to  his  feet.  "  Come  over  here 
as  quick  as  you  can,"  he  called  in  a  strange  voice, 
which  made  Lorimer  spring  across  the  lawn. 

"  What  has  happened  ?  "  cried  the  briefless  lawyer. 

"I  am  a  fool — that's  all.  And  it  will  keep  on  hap 
pening  as  long  as  I  live."  With  this  Nixon  whispered 
several  sentences  in  Frank's  ear  which  awoke  all  the 
dormant  activity  in  that  youth.  In  three  minutes 
the  cloud  of  flying  dust  in  the  glen  alone  told  that  the 
Mambrino  mare  was  doing  almost  a  racing  pace. 

When  Miss  Inez  appeared  on  the  veranda  ready  for 
her  coveted  ride  there  was  sweet  wonder  in  her  eyes  as 
she  saw  not  her  Lochinvar. 

"He  will  be  back  in  a  short  time,"  apologized  Doc 
tor  Jim;  "a  sudden  telegram  demands  an  instant 
answer,  and  lam  charged  to  beg  you  to  kindly  wait  for 
him." 

The  pouting  damsel  was  fain  to  be  content  with  a 
morning  visit  to  her  silent  friends,  the  fragrant 
roses  of  Villa  Romero,  while  Doctor  Nixon,  with  his 
watch  on  the  table,  counted  the  minutes  as  he  glanced 
over  the  stately  words  of  the  old  chronicle.  These 
took  his  mind  back  to  the  wild  days  of  the  seventeenth 
century  as  he  pored  over  the  quaint  characters  of  the 
old  legend.  It  seemed  as  if  the  breath  of  the  past  was 
sighing  mournfully  in  the  trees.  "It  will  take  me  at 
least  a  week  to  decipher  all  this,  and  will  I  ever  see  it 
again  ?  " 

The  young  man  thought  anxiously,  but  his  heart 
bounded  as  Frank  Lorimer  came  striding  over  the  flower 
beds. 

"Walk  up  to  the  stable!  Quick!     He  is  there  in  the 


HIS    CUBAN    SWEETHEART.  47 

harness  room !  I  will  stay  here  and  hold  the  fort  with 
Inez!  When  you  are  done,  come  out  and  stand  in  the 
stable  door.  I  will  be  on  the  watch  and  join  you. 
Thompson  is  a  good  fellow  and  as  quick  as  chain  light 
ning!  " 

Doctor  Nixon  walked  smartly  to  the  stable,  holding 
the  precious  leaves  hidden  under  his  coat,  and  was  de 
lighted  to  see  inside  it  a  young  fellow,  whose  Romeo 
air  and  oiled  locks  bespoke  the  village  photographer, 
who  exclaimed  with  a  nervous  air  as  he  quietly  locked 
the  front  door :  ' '  All  ready,  sir !  I'll  do  you  up  in  fifteen 
minutes!  " 

The  implements  of  his  magic  art  were  scattered 
around  on  the  benches.  There  was  nothing  of  the 
"  higher  orders  "  in  the  flashy  garb,  the  stained  fingers 
and  imitation  diamond  pin  of  the  artist, — but  he  swung 
his  landscape  camera  at  once  into  place  with  the  calm 
air  of  a  master  of  the  art!  "  I  brought  along  a  dozen 
boxed  plates,  and  all  you  have  to  do  is  to  follow  my 
directions." 

Swinging  open  the  rear  door  quickly  for  light, 
and  whipping  out  a  dozen  sheets  of  varied  col 
ored  back-ground  paper,  the  photographer  sprang  to 
his  work!  When  he  glanced  at  his  watch  in  triumph 
as  he  snapped  the  last  negative  case  and  cried: 
"Twelve  in  seventeen  minutes!  Not  so  bad!  Now,  sir, 
if  you  will  stand  in  the  door  of  the  stable  and  call  up 
Squire  Frank,  I'll  have  all  these  things  over  the  fence 
and  hidden  away  in  the  bushes  in  two  minutes.  Mr. 
Lorimer  will  take  my  cases  over  to  his  house.  My  boy 
is  on  the  way  with  my  own  trap, — and  in  two  hours 
I  will  have  developed  these  negatives  and  leave  them 
safely  locked  up  in  Mr.  Lorimer's  room.  I  can  come 
up  to-morrow  to  Edgecliff  and  print  you  off  a  bushel  of 
them.  I  suppose  you  do  not  wish  the  negatives 
touched." 

"Not  a  line!  not  a  spot!"  imperatively  cried  Nixon. 
"  I  will  pay  you  for  all  your  extra  trouble." 

"  You  can't  do  that,"  laughed  Thompson.  "  Squire 
Frank  has  given  me  a  twenty  dollar  bill,  and  so  I  am 
'squared'  forever!  I  will  tell  you,  though,  one  of 
these  leaves  has  been  damaged.  Somebody  has  scraped 


48  HIS   CUBAN    SWEETHEART. 

out  some  of  the  words,  and  I  call  you  to  witness  that 
I  never  touched  the  parchments.  I  suppose  they  could 
not  rub  out  any  words  once  traced,  and  had  to  shave  a 
clean  place.  You  can  easily  tell  where  the  words  were 
altered.  Hold  it  up  to  the  light!  The  thin  spots  show! 
I  saw  them  at  once,  as  I  took  a  glimpse  of  the  nega 
tives.  It's  on  the  third  sheet  you  gave  me." 

Lorimer  came  striding  up  the  gravel  walk !  There  was 
nothing  in  the  deserted  harness-room  five  minutes  later 
to  indicate  that  the  room  had  been  a  temple  of  Daguerre's 
mystic  shadow  picturing.  When  the  half  mollified 
Senorita  Inez  smiled  back  at  Doctor  Nixon,  he  was 
standing  with  the  precious  manuscript  pressed  to  his 
bosom. 

"  It  is  for  you — for  your  future !  "  he  murmured.  "  I 
fancy  Padre  Viciente  has  lost  a  trick  this  very  morning! 
Scalpel  against  gown!  I  shall  not  oppose  your  father 
confiding  the  document  to  the  experts  of  the  Church!  " 

And  as  he  then  took  his  seat  in  the  arbor  under  the 
gleaming  rays  of  the  summer  morning  sun  he  care 
fully  examined  the  shaved  parchment  leaf.  The  thin 
spots  were  invisible  to  the  naked  eye,  and  only  by 
holding  it  up  to  the  brilliant  lightcould  the  difference  of 
shade  of  the  background  be  seen.  There  were  four 
words  on  the  page  which  seemed  to  have  been  care 
fully  erased  or  written  over  a  thinner  place.  Unfamil 
iar  with  the  text,  the  volunteer  expert  could  not  at 
tach  any  meaning  to  them  as  yet. 

The  sound  of  voices  suddenly  startled  him.  "It 
will  be  his  game  to  politely  regain  possession  of  the 
document!  This  may  be  my  last  chance i  " 

And  drawing  out  his  notebook  Nixon  traced  a 
fac-simile  of  each  word,  in  position  as  found,  with 
little  regard  to  the  context.  A  blank  line  on  either 
side  indicated  the  relative  position  of  the  words  on  the 
page  and  their  sequence. 

Hastily  shutting  his  notebook,  he  thrust  it  in  his 
bosom  as  the  padre  came  swiftly  striding  up  to  him, — 
over  the  fragrant  grass. 

James  Nixon's  morning  salutation  was  most  court 
eously  received  and  the  two  men  then  rejoined  the 
General,  who  lay  extended  in  a  hammock  swaying 


HIS    CUBAN    SWEETHEART.  49 

gently  in  the  sunlight.  The  veteran's  eyes  gleamed 
anxiously  as  the  young  doctor  neared  him ! 

"You  have  read  it  ?  "  he  said. 

"Ah! "  replied  Nixon,  "it  will  require  some  study 
on  my  part  to  decipher  its  whole  meaning.  If  the  padre 
would  read  it  to  me  it  would  save  me  perhaps  a  week 
of  study  and  delay.  His  life  spent  among  the  records 
of  the  church  makes  him  your  only  counselor  in  this 
very  grave  affair." 

The  gentle  flattery  of  the  remark,  and  the  evident 
desire  not  to  meddle,  pleased  the  churchman  mightly. 

"We  have  much  to  confer  about,  Senor  Don  Jose" 
and  myself ! "  courteously  replied  Padre  Viciente. 
"This  evening,  if  you  will  honor  me,  lean  give  you 
from  eight  to  twelve." 

"That  will  suit  me  exactly!"  good-humoredly  re 
marked  Doctor  Jim,  "and  I  will  therefore  return  and 
visit  my  patient  at  that  time." 

"  A  sus  ordenes,  por  la  tarde  !  "  murmured  the  priest 
as  the  doctor  turned  to  go,  after  a  few  words  of  general 
medical  direction.  There  was  no  mistaking  the  gleam 
of  quiet  satisfaction  with  which  the  churchman  saw  the 
field  abandoned  to  him  alone. 

"  I  think  I  will  now  let  you  play  your  little  game 
in  the  lead,"  mused  Nixon  as  he  strode  happily  along. 

It  suddenly  occurred  to  him  that  an  exploration 
of  the  environs  of  Edgecliff,  under  the  guidance  of 
Miss  Ethel,  would  increase  his  store  of  revolutionary 
memories.  "  Nothing  like  going  over  the  ground  with 
one  intelligent  person."  "  The  intelligent  person  "  at 
that  very  moment  was  straining  her  eyes,  like  Sister 
Anne,  to  see  the  form  of  the  returning  guest.  Doctor 
Jim,  pausing  in  his  slashing  stride  down  the  leafy  lanes, 
bethought  him  of  his  notebook.  As  his  eye  fell  upon 
one  of  the  pages  he  had  copied  he  started.  There  in 
the  form  of  a  cross  were  arranged  the  four  words: 


Debajo puerta  "- 

''mayor.'' 


"  Under  the  great  door,"  mused  James  Nixon,  as  he 
stood  there. 

"  What  is  under  the  great  door  ?  "     It  rushed  upon 


gO  HIS    CUBAN    SWEETHEART. 

his  mind  that  the  quaint  self-accusation  of  the  old 
cavalier  turned  freebooter  had  been  confined  to  telling 
a  part  of  the  story,  only;  in  the  recital  now  in  the 
priest's  hands. 

"I  have  it  !"  cried  Nixon.  "The  secret  of  the 
Leaden  Casket  !  There  is  another  deposit,  perhaps  the 
stolen  spoil  of  Maracaibo,  under  the  great  door! 
And  so  for  centuries  the  foot  of  the  friend  and  the 
stranger  may  have  trodden  over  the  fruit  of  crime  and 
the  origin  of  the  curse  of  the  Romeros.  This  is  a 
happy  accident  of  the  village  photographer's  discovery. 
He  is  a  sharp  fellow.  Perhaps  the  sly  priest  may  not 
find  it.  The  words  need  to  be  read  together  as  a 
whole — apart  from  the  body  of  the  document,  to  have  a 
clear  meaning.  I  will  trust  only  to  Frank.  If 
I  tell  the  poor  priest-ridden  General,  the  ghostly 
confessor  will  worm  the  story  out.  What  if  he  should 
visit  Los  Olmos  the  first  and  at  once  remove  the  deposit, 
or  instantly  so  instruct  his  agents  down  there  now? 
Some  one  of  us  must  get  there  before  him — he  must  be 
flattered  and  detained  here,  and  then  once  in  our  hands 
with  the  treasure  or  the  remaining  part  of  the  story  of 
the  past  we  could  checkmate  this  moody  priest. 
Frank,  Inez,  myself — who  could  go  ?  Our  absence  for 
any  length  of  time  could  not  be  well  explained.  There 
is  but  one  who  might  be  trusted,  if  a  loyal  drop  of 
blood  is  in  him.  It  is  Felipe.  For  the  sour-faced 
padre  is  surely  no  frend  of  his.  When  I  have  grasped 
the  full  import  of  the  story,  after  the  conference  of 
to-night,  I  can  decide  !  "  was  Nixon's  conclusion  as  he 
strode  up  the  green  lawns  of  Edgecliff. 

A  golden-haired  watcher  awaited  him,  but  the  birds 
seemed  to  be  twittering  :  "Felipe  must  go  !  Felipe 
must  go  ! " 


HIS    CUBAN    SWEETHEART.  51 

CHAPTER  IV. 

FELIPE'S  QUEST. 

FRANK  LORIMER  was  busied  with  other  matters  than 
old  legends  on  that  tete-a-tete  ride.  The  enchanting 
flashes  of  two  Spanish  eyes  drew  the  young  man's  heart 
far  away  from  the  fan  palms,  the  mango  groves  and 
orange  shades  of  Los  Olmos  in  the  golden  hours  of  the 
happy  afternoon  ! 

Lorimer  had  said  to  Nixon  as  he  prepared  to  escort 
Miss  Inez  hdmeward  :  "I  do  not  like  to  leave  Don 
Jose  cooped  up  always  alone  with  the  raven  of  the 
Antilles?  So  I'll  take  the  Senorita  back.  I  have  set 
Inez  to  watch  his  every  movement.  I  think,  in  the 
grave  state  of  the  General's  health,  that  she  should 
now  be  made  acquainted  at  once  with  all  the  future 
resources  of  the  family  and  her  coming  responsibilities. 
Felipe  belongs  to  the  class  the  villagers  designate  here 
as  'of  no  earthly  good!'  I've  charged  her  to  find 
out  about  the  padre's  probable  stay,  and  to  also  sound 
the  General  daily  as  to  all  proposed  movements.  Now. 
Thompson  has  already  fixed  his  negatives,  and  he  says 
that  they  are  remarkably  good.  I  will  be  in  the  room, 
or  rather,  on  the  roof,  with  him  to-morrow,  and  see 
that  he  prints  only  two  good  proofs  of  each.  The 
plates  shall  not  leave  my  sight.  In  the  meantime, 
Buster,  they  are  now  safe  with  two  Yale  locks  as 
guardians  in  the  closet  where  I  have  enshrined  my 
tresses  of  hair,  old  slippers,  dried  bouquets,  photo 
graphs,  and  all  the  poor  trophies  of  my  college 
career." 

"It  must  be  a  large,  very  large  closet  !"  suggested 
Nixon. 

"  Ah!  not  so  large!  "  retorted  Lorimer.  "  '  Young- 
man-afraid-of-his-record  '  has  very  few  scalps  on  his 
belt.  I  am  but  a  poor  Don  Juan.  .  My  own  austere 
life  proves  that." 

"Take  your  austere  life  away  with  you — and  mend 


52  HIS    CUBAN    SWEETHEART. 

your  ways,"  laughed  Nixon.  "I  am  going  out 
riding.  As  for  you,  I  can  easily  see  whither  you  are 
drifting." 

If  Doctor  Nixon  did  not  attain  a  fair  idea  of  the 
legendary  history  of  the  Fishkill  valley  on  his  after 
noon  drive  it  was  not  for  want  of  time  given  to  the 
subject.  His  close  attention  to  the  words  of  his  lovely 
cicerone  was  remarkable,  yet  he  lingered  not  upon 
the  traces  of  the  men  who  nobly  fought  that  we  might 
be  free.  The  spectacle  of  Ethel  Lorimer,  her  graceful 
form  swaying  at  his  side,  her  soft  voice  rippling  in 
music,  the  dreamy  afternoon  sunshine,  the  breath  of 
flowers  and  the  hum  of  bees  carried  out  of  his  mind 
the  visionary  men  in  blue  and  buff — 

"  The  brave  Continentals 

In  their  ragged  regimentals  !  " 

For,  near  him,  the  golden-haired  child  of  Vassar 
brought  into  his  life  a  living  picture  of  love-tinted  blue 
and  gold.  They  wandered  along  under  green  apple 
boughs,  while  the  pony  nibbled  aimlessly  at  the  sweet 
clover  of  the  country  roads.  The  scene  was  peaceful 
and  lulling.  Yet  the  cardiac  disturbances  were  vastly 
increased,  as  they  drove  homeward. 

It  was  not  necessary  that  the  son  of  ^Esculapius 
should  fall  into  love.  He  was  gently  drifting  down 
the  tide — drifting  with  a  beautiful  woman  at  his  side, 
to  where  the  waters  meet  and  flow  on  to  join  the  river 
of  life  seeking  the  unknown  sea  ! 

It  was  in  the  absence  of  Frank  Lorimer,  a  willing 
prisoner  at  Villa  Romero,  that  Nixon  dined,  his  mind 
centered  upon  the  evening  tryst  with  the  oily  church 
man. 

"  I  will  be  as  wax  in  his  hands,"  mused  Doctor  Jim, 
"and  yet  be  as  sly  as  the  little  darky  who  '  won't  say 
nuffin  to  nobody. '  Padre  Viciente  will  find  out  later  that 
I  can  keep  the  secret  of  the  leaden  casket — not  dig  it  up 
out  of  the  flourishes  of  the  document.  Should  this 
treasure,  itself,  be  discovered  there  are  two  dangers 
before  us.  Don  Jose,  a  proscribed  rebel,  may  not  legally 
claim  any  treasure  trove.  He  is  powerless  !  Cuba 
Libre  '  has  laid  him  out '  forever.  Pardon  to  him  is 
out  of  the  question.  Again,  if  the  emeralds  should 


HIS   CUBAN    SWEETHEART.  53 

really  prove  a  find  of  value,  they  would  either  be 
claimed  by  the  Church,  or  petered  through  the  priest's 
hands,  and  very  little  would  reach  Inez.  The  old  Don's 
anxiety  for  her  future  shows  that  he  may  have  but  a 
slender  store  left  of  the  '  necessary  evil ' — the  all-pow 
erful  '  shekels  !  '  : 

James  Nixon  was  not  astonished  to  find  General 
Romero  sleeping  the  exhausted  sleep  of  a  worn  and 
wearied  man  when  he  reached  the  villa.  The  padre 
was  already  pacing  the  library  in  some  expectation.  He 
raised  his  head  in  a  grave  salutation  as  the  doctor 
passed  into  the  Don's  room.  The  long  gown  and 
clasped  arms,  with  the  singularly  awkward  headgear  of 
his  grade,  "  left  the  shadows  floating  on  the  floor.'" 

It  was  patent  to  the  doctor  that  this  Cuban  had 
come  to  stay,  that  the  whole  household  obeyed  him, 
and  that  no  one  dared  oppose  his  slightest  wish.  The 
old  man  was  lying  on  his  couch  under  the  picture  of 
the  dear  dead  woman  who  had  guarded  his  dreams  so 
long.  A  gray  shadow,  lingering  reluctant  at  death's 
half-opened  door  he  seemed,  and  now  in  his  sleep,  he 
stirred  and  murmured:  "Inez!  Pobre.  Inez!  Mi 
querida  !" 

James  Nixon  sighed  and  muttered: 

"  '  The  way  was  dark,  the  night  was  cold, 
The  minstrel  was  infirm  and  old.' 

He  is  on  his  lonely  way  to  join  the  choir  invisible." 
And  in  the  hope  of  serving  the  despoiled  heiress  of 
the  decayed  old  line,  the  unhappy  Romero,  the 
American  joined  the  priest  as  the  bell  chimed  eight. 

"I  will  read  you  now  this  fearful  record,  Senor," 
said  the  priest,  as  he  seated  himself  at  a  table, 
where  the  precious  old  document  lay  in  readiness. 
"  As  the  representative  of  the  General  I  only  ask  that 
you  will  make  no  private  notes  of  this  grave  communi 
cation.  There  are  before  him  long  days,  weeks,  years 
of  atonement  for  this  vast  impiety,  imposed  by  the 
Almighty  upon  the  innocent  ones  who  bear  the  name 
of  Romero." 

"  I  will  endeavor  to  shorten  their  penance,"  energet 
ically  decided  the  doctor,  as  he  placed  himself  where  the 
light  would  show  him  every  movement  of  the  priest's  face. 


54  HIS   CUBAN    SWEETHEART. 

"I  will  give  you  each  sheet  to  read  after  me, 
Senor,"  chanted  the  padre  in  his  impassive  monotone, 
"that  you  may  verify  my  poor  elucidation.  It  seems 
all  simple  enough,  but,  alas!  this  secret  is  only  the 
story  of  another  secret,  and  two  days  have  given  me 
so  far  no  key  to  the  obscurity  of  the  story.  It  may  be 
that  Fernando  Aguilar's  mind  was  enfeebled;  that  he, 
in  his  remorse  with  a  clouded  memory,  forgot  the  very 
knowledge  he  would  transmit. 

Nixon  bowed  in  silence. 

"Thank  God,  he  knows  nothing,"  mused  the  watch 
ful  doctor.  "And  I  have  the  triple  set  of  negatives. 
I  will  secrete  one  set  at  Edgecliff,  deposit  one  in  the 
safe  deposit  vaults,  and  hold  the  other  for  my  own 
study.  His  sly  arts  are  now  powerless,  for  the  sun 
god  has  painted  every  line  and  hair-flourish.  I  have 
outwitted  you,  my  clerical  friend." 

It  was  almost  a  useless  formality  to  ask  if  the  padre 
objected  to  smoking,  so  James  retired  behind  a 
cloud  as  the  priest  purred  out  the  words  slowly. 
Doctor  Nixon's  mental  translation  was  also  designedly 
slow;  for  phrase  after  phrase  was  read  over  again  as 
he  gained  time  to  think  of  the  meaning  of  the  con 
cealed  words  of  the  veiled  secret.  His  American 
ized  version  was  fixed  in  his  mind  as  follows  : 

TO  MY  DESCENDANTS  • 

I,  Fernando  Aguilar  de  Romero,  sometime  Knight  of 
the  Order  of  St.  James,  and  of  His  Catholic  Majesty's 
Ejercito  Real,  have  caused  this  relation  with  my  own 
seal  and  firma,  to  be  deposited  under  the  altar  of  the 
Chapel  of  Los  Olmos,  in  the  year  A.  D.  1685,  being 
now  old  and  greviously  suffering  from  my  wounds. 

It  is  not  to  my  faithless  wife  nor  to  my  children 
now  of  tender  years,  that  I  may  confide  the  story  of 
my  absence  of  seven  years  from  the  Isla  de  Cuba. 

May  the  blessed  Virgin  guard  the  secret  here  con 
fided  till  all  have  passed  away  who  might  suffer  by  my 
relation  of  the  truth.  The  secret  of  the  riches*  stolen 
from  the  altar  of  Maracaibo  is  here  given  to  the  trust 
of  Almighty  Providence,  to  guide  and  dispose  as  it 
may  seem  best. 


HIS    CUBAN    SWEETHEART.  55 

Know  then,  my  descendants,  that  I  was  chased  to  a 
refuge  with  the  buccaneers  (the  enemies  of  His  Catholic 
Majesty)  by  the  resentment  of  mine  enemy,  the 
Captain-General  of  Cuba.  I  dared  not  repair  to 
Jamaica,  whither  Captain  Morgan  had  sailed,  for  I  had 
battled  with  the  English  at  sea,  and  in  Campeachy, 
and  the  kingdom  of  Terra  Firma,  which  is  Costa  Rica, 
lest  I  be  bound  and  sent  to  my  enemy  or  taken  at  sea. 
I  escaped  with  some  Carib  boatmen  in  a  perogua  to 
Cow  Isle,  from  where  the  valiant  Captain  Henry 
Morgan  essayed  a  descent  upon  Venezuela. 

To  my  spouse,  Senora  Dolores,  I  had  given  none  of 
my  designs,  when  I  embarked  her  and  my  infant  son, 
Diego,  upon  the  plate  galleon  then  setting  forth  for 
Vera  Cruz,  where  her  brother  Don  Alarco  de  Guzman 
was  royal  governor. 

But  the  Captain-General,  Hevera,  bitterly  sought 
my  life  for  that  I  had  sent  my  beautiful  wife 
away  out  of  his  power.  I  fain  would  have  passed  for 
one  of  Morgan's  Basques,  Frenchmen  or  Walloons,  and 
so  made  my  way  out  to  old  Spain  by  Venezuela  and  the 
Guianas;  for  mine  ancient  enemy,  Sir  Henry  Morgan, 
and  his  bull-dog  English  were  the  most  grievous  foes 
of  Spain,  and  I  had  battled  with  him  at  St.  Catherine's 
Island,  Puerto  de  Principe  and  Porto  Bello. 

Lest  he  torture  me  as  a  spy,  I  made  haste  to  shave 
my  beard  and  to  join  one  of  the  seventeen  vessels  of 
which  the  valiant  Welshman  was  chief. 

The  followers  of  Pierre  Le  Grand,  Roche  Brasiliano, 
Pierre  Francois,  Bartholomew  the  Portugal,  Mansueld 
and  Lolonois  had  all  flocked  to  join  this  devil  man, 
Morgan. 

It  was  a  band  of  human  devils.  Lolonois  being  dead 
now,  miserably  perished  in  Nicaragua,  the  old  Welsh 
man  was  king  of  the  Caribbean.  The  deeds  of  this  last 
exceed  even  that  fiend  of  fiends,  Lolonois,  whom  the  In 
dians  stripped  of  his  flesh  while  still  alive  in  Nicaragua, 
burning  his  bones  and  casting  the  ashes  in  the  air.  So 
rendered  they  justice  to  their  guilty  captive. 

In  a  common  soldier's  leather  doublet,  I,  a  nobleman, 
did  daily  upon  my  guard  duty,  as  we  sailed  away 
to  Savona,  being  at  the  point  of  starving  for  want  of 


56  HIS   CUBAN    SWEETHEART. 

provisions  and  grievously  becalmed.  The  fleet  of  our 
company  was  scattered,  and  after  long  waiting  but 
eight  vessels  and  five  hundred  men  were  come  near  at 
hand.  There  was  a  certain  French  captain  of  Lolonois 
who,  knowing  all  the  entrances  of  the  Lake  Mara- 
caibo,  at  last  persuaded  Morgan  to  rifle  and  sack 
the  city  of  Maracaibo,  for  that  the  priests  and  people 
had  hidden  there  vast  treasures  two  years  before, 
which  the  greedy  Lolonois  found  not.  This  had  been 
revealed  by  a  grateful  prisoner  whose  life  the  Frenchman 
had  saved. 

It  was  in  March,  A.D.  1669,  that  our  band 
gallantly  forced  the  forts  of  La  Vigilia  and  de  la  Barra, 
and  the  city  of  Maracaibo  was  finally  taken  and  given 
over  to  horrible  sack  and  rapine. 

I,  Fernando  Aguilar  de  Romero,  was  cast  in  a  watch 
of  seven  men,  all  bloodthirsty  enemies  of  Spain.  I 
was  put  with  them  in  the  attack  and  forcing  of  the  great 
cathedral,  for  the  town  lay  at  our  mercy.  In  the  great 
cathedral  the  main  guard  of  our  commander  made  its 
post  after  the  victory,  and  for  three  days  the  place  was 
wrapped  in  flames  and  the  yell  of  the  ravished  rose 
high  above  the  groans  of  the  dying. 

On  the  second  night  of  the  sack,  my  companions 
called  me  to  where  they  had  hidden  the  sacristan  of 
the  cathedral  and  the  vicar-general  of  the  diocese, 
who  had  once  seen  me  in  Cuba.  These  miserable  men 
were  then  bound  and  put  to  the  rack  and  the  most  hor 
rid  and  ingenious  tortures.  I  feared  to  hold  my  own 
hand  back  lest  I  should  be  slain  myself;  therefore,  I 
dared  not  discover  myself  to  these  sufferers  as  a 
Spaniard. 

Every  day  the  wretched  people  who  had  fled  from 
the  living  hell  were  dragged  back  into  the  still  blazing 
city,  and  there  was  great  rage  among  the  victors  for 
that  the  spoil  was  miserably  small  !  For  these 
Captain  Morgan  gave  liberty  for  all  manner  of  tortures 
to  discover  the  vast  treasures  whereof  Lolonois  was 
also  foiled. 

Three  weeks  this  diligent  search  was  kept  up  and 
divers  hundreds  of  innocent  men  and  women  perished 
horribly.  Captain  Morgan  being  foiled  as  to  finding 


HIS    CUBAN    SWEETHEART.  57 

riches  made  haste  to  victual  his  fleet  for  the  attack  of 
Merida  and  Gibraltar,  which  is  by  the  Gurinas. 

On  guard  at  the  tent  of  the  pirate  commander  him 
self  I  heard  the  great  corsair  and  the  French  captain 
within  in  deep  converse,  and  they  wotted  not  that  I 
spoke  Spanish. 

The  wine  was  free  in  their  heads,  and  they  boasted  of 
the  store  of  gold  and  silver  and  emeralds  they  would 
yet  find  in  Merida  and  Gibraltar.  The  Frenchman 
related  unto  Morgan  that  all  the  great  treasures  of  the 
cathedral  had  been  removed  or  hidden.  ' '  For  wist  you, " 
said  he,  "Lolonois  got  naught  but  the  great  silver 
candlesticks,  the  pictures  and  the  silver  bells  when  we 
sacked  the  town,  and  these  we  took  away  to  Tortuga;  " 
whereat  Morgan  in  a  rage  bade  the  captain  of  the 
guard  to  single  out  for  torture  to  the  last  extremity 
every  religious  taken. 

Then  the  French  captain  told  of  a  vast  number  of 
great  emeralds  of  enormous  value  beyond  the  mind  of 
man  to  know,  which  the  Muiscas  of  Tunja  and  Bogota 
had  fearfully  given  up  as  tribute  to  the  priests  for  pro 
tection  of  the  Magdalena  tribes.  He  said:  "The 
Conquistadores,  aware  of  the  value  of  the  gold  and  silver 
bars,  knew  not  of  the  enormous  price  of  the  emeralds, 
far  beyond  any  known  in  the  world.  The  sly  Muisca 
priests  of  Venezuela  had  long  received  and  hoarded 
them.  These  matchless  jewels  were  thus  all  sacred  to 
Bochica  and  Chia,  the  goddess  of  wickedness. 

"  It  was  a  collection  made  in  the  tribute  coffers 
of  the  gloomy  temples  of  this  awful  goddess.  There 
was  an  open  stone  chest  before  each  golden  idol 
in  the  shades  of  the  Lake  of  Guatavista,  and  there  the 
Muiscas  timidly  deposited  their  bribes — that  accursed 
stone — the  emerald  of  the  Magdalena.  Far  above  the 
gold  and  silver,  the  dyed  cotton  and  choice,  perfumed 
wax,  the  wily  Xeques  prized  these  rare  emeralds, 
which  they  secretly  hid  while  teaching  their  poor 
dupes  that  the  Sun  and  Moon  god  had  silently  swept 
away  their  previous  offerings.  The  bearded  villain 
Morgan  then  sprang  up  with  a  fearful  oath.  I  shud 
dered,  standing  on  guard  UNDER  the  shadow  of  THE 
folds  of  the  GREAT  DOOR." 


58  HIS    CUBAN    SWEETHEART. 

As  the  priest  read  these  fateful  words  Nixon  chilled 
to  ice  with  the  reflex  of  his  strange  mental  agitation. 
But  Padre  Viciente  only  chanted  along  in  a  perfunctory 
way  and  concluded  the  reading. 

"Morgan  rushed  out  at  once  and  ordered  the 
assembly  and  torture  of  all  the  priests.  It  was  a  night 
of  hell's  own  dark  work.  My  watch  mate  was  one  of 
my  seven  companions.  He  sped  away,  and  then  the 
band  who  ruled  me  hid  the  vicar  and  the  sacristan  in  a 
remote  forest  glade.  I  dared  not  betray  myself  lest 
I  die  the  death.  The  other  religious  prisoners  soon 
perished  by  fire,  by  the  rack  and  all  inhuman 
butchery,  but  none  of  them  betrayed  the  place  of  hid 
ing  of  the  Muisca  tribute.  I  of  a  verity  knew  later 
they  wist  not  where  they  were.  For  the  vicar,  the 
sacristan  and  the  Bishop  of  Maracaibo  (gone  back  to 
Spain)  alone  knew  where  the  emeralds  had  been  hidden 
from  Pierre  Lolonois. 

It  was  while  Captain  Morgan,  now  beset,  prepared  to 
storm  his  way  out  of  the  lake  and  destroy  with  fire 
ships  the  fleet  of  Don  Alonso  del  Campe  y  Espinosa, 
that  these  seven  devils  to  whom  I  was  bound  inhumanly 
roasted  over  a  slow  fire  the  Vicar-General  and  sacristan 
till  they  at  last  gave  up  the  secret.  We  were  left  be 
hind  to  guard  the  cathedral  (now  a  strong  place  of 
arms)  while  Morgan  stormed  and  sacked  Gibraltar 
and  Merida.  They  forced  me  to  stand  guard  while  I 
heard  the  poor  priest  with  the  voice  of  dying  agony 
curse  us  all  and  then  give  us  over  to  eternal  damnation ! 
When  my  comrades  sped  away  to  begin  to  spy  around 
the  great  altar  for  the  signs  of  the  crypt  where  the 
millions  of  pieces  of  eight,  in  emeralds,  were  hidden  by 
the  Bishop's  secret  order,  I  tried  to  soothe  the  dying 
moments  of  the  Vicar. 

The  poor  sacristan  lay  dead  at  our  feet!  In  Spanish 
I  kindly  addressed  the  man  of  God.  He  turned  his 
eyes  on  me!  The  eyes  of  death  are  keen  of  sight.  At 
last  he  knew  me!  And  he  groaned:  "The  innocent 
hand,  the  last  of  your  line,  alone  shall  break  the  bond 
of  this  curse,  a  woman's  it  shall  be,  after  sorrow  and 
woe  has  left  your  proud  halls  vacant!" 

I  shuddered  and  fled  from  him  in  mortal  fear. 


HIS   CUBAN    SWEETHEART  59 

The  villains  toiling,  at  last  found  and  carried  away 
the  great  hoard  of  gems. 

How  we  deserted  at  Jamaica  when  Morgan  sailed 
away  for  the  sack  of  Panama;  how  we  concealed  in 
our  bags  bullets  and  powder,  as  well  as  the  two  great 
leather  sacks  of  uncut  emeralds,  I  have  told,  in  another 
relation  and  confession. 

It  was  two  long  years  before  I  was  left  alone  naked 
and  accursed  on  a  lonely  strand.  My  vile  com 
panions  were  dead,  and  the  awful  secret  of  the  robbing 
of  God's  altar  was  mine  alone !  Of  the  treasure  for 
which  these  seven  men  perished,  bootless — where  it 
now  lies  hidden. — and  my  long  wanderings  with  them, 
chased  by  Indians  and  Spaniards,  the  other  relation 
tells. 

I  bury  with  this  document  one  emerald,  as  each  mur 
derer  took  but  one  from  the  store  as  a  token. 

When  I  was  rescued  at  last  by  chance,  on  a  hostile 
shore,  I  told  a  wild  tale  of  my  capture  by  pirates  and 
being  thrown  ashore  among  the  Central  American 
tribes. 

Herrera,  the  beast,  was  dead.  I  made  my  way 
safely  to  Vera  Cruz,  and  in  sorrow  and  sadness  my 
spouse  saw  me  once  more,  but  sadly  broken  with  age. 
To  her  death  she  knew  not  of  my  seven  years'  history, 
and  I  confide  to  the  Blessed  Virgin  alone  this  true  story 
of  my  crime.  I  have  been  suffered  to  drag  out  my  days 
here  in  peaceable  neglect,  but  the  hand  of  God  has  been 
heavy  upon  me. 

I  dare  not  approach  the  holy  altar.  The  sac 
raments  of  the  Church  are  denied  to  me,  for  I 
killed  with  the  sword,  at  Maracaibo,  and  my  seven 
devils,  of  whom  I  was  possessed,  made  me  aid  in  the 
most  horrible  death  of  the  Vicar-General  and  sacristan. 
I,  too,  profaned  the  altar  with  my  own  hand,  and  to 
save  my  wretched  life  I  lost  my  soul ! 

It  was  only  to  look  upon  the  face  of  my  wife  again  that 
I  sinned.  And  as  a  good  woman  brought  the  curse 
innocently  upon  me  and  the  line  of  Romeros,  so  shall  an 
innocent  woman  take  it  away  forever. 

You  that  read,  if  God  wills,  will  find  the  secret  here 
hidden  of  the  true  relation  of  where  this  great  treasure 


60  HIS   CUBAN    SWEETHEART. 

now  lies.     And  if  God  wills  not,  then  so  be  it      Amen. 
And  "  Dios  perdoneme  todas  mis  culpas  !  " 

Done  at  Los  Olmos,  on  the  feast  of  St.  Jago,  A.D. 
1685. 

FERNANDO  AGUILAR  DE  ROMERO. 

When  the  priest  ceased  the  reading,  he  fixed  his 
gleaming  eyes  upon  the  young  doctor  as  he  remarked, 
"Here  the  relation  rests.  There  is  naught  in  all  this  but 
the  shell  of  another  secret.  What  think  you  ?  I  find 
nothing  of  value,  save  the  story  of  a  horrible  outrage 
upon  God's  Holy  Church  and  the  jewel  which  Don 
Jose  guards.  It  has  been  roughly  polished! " 

"It  is  a  dark  mystery,"  said  Nixon,  gravely,  as  he 
rose.  "I  must  think  over  the  whole  matter." 
Then,  with  courteous  thanks,  he  rose  and  went  out  into 
starlit  gardens  to  escape  the  burning  eyes  of  the  baffled 
priest. 

Did  he  have  the  clue  ?  His  heart  beat  like  a  trip 
hammer. 

For  the  four  erased  words  seemed  to  suggest  another 
discovery. 

"Where  are  you  going  ?"  cried  Lorimer  as  Doctor 
Jim  bade  the  young  Senorita  "  Good  night." 

"I'll  wait  up  for  you,  Frank,"  heartily  answered 
Nixon.  "I  want  to  think  things  over  a  little,  and  I 
beg  you  will  bring  Miss  Inez  over  to-morrow  for  break 
fast.  I  think  we  all  should  have  a  little  council  of 
war." 

"Are  you  in  sight  of  the  emeralds  yet?"  eagerly 
whispered  Lorimer. 

"  No  !  But  I  am  lingering  on  the  threshold  of  the 
past.  Don't  be  too  late  I  1  am  going  down  to  York 
to-morrow  and  I  want  those  prints  on  my  return." 

The  half-mile  was  a  short  one,  as  the  doctor  swung 
along  in  the  broken  moonlight.  He  was  only  disturbed 
by  the  discovery  of  a  little  bit  of  gypsy  lovemaking; 
for  he  unearthed  a  moonlight  tryst  of  the  two  Spanish 
bats  with  some  ot  the  too  susceptible  lasses  of  the 
village.  ^ 

"Young  imps  of  Satan!  Mischief  still  for  idle 
hands,"  he  murmured.  But  Nixon  finally  resolved  on 


HIS   CUBAN    SWEETHEART.  6l 

his  plan  of  action  as  he  leaned  out  of  the  window  and 
puffed  long  draughts  of  Lalakia  on  the  rose  vines  to 
the  discomfiture  of  the  earwigs.  "  I  will  get  out  of  the 
way  to-morrow  afternoon.  The  great  town  of  Gotham 
shall  purvey  unto  me  all  the  literature  of  the  Buccaneer 
clan.  I'll  set  Abercromby  at  the  Astor  and  Lenox 
Libraries  too.  A  powerful  microscope  in  my  pos 
session  and  I  will  then  go  over  the  prints  'secundem 
artem'.  I  flatter  myself  that  if  I  cut  up  a  series  of 
them,  one  line  only  on  a  slip,  and  shuffle  them  up, 
having  them  translated  by  different  experts  who  only 
see  a  part,  I  can  then  reassemble  the  strict  literal 
redditions  pinned  to  each  part  into  a  proper  translation 
of  the  whole.  For  the  priest  may  have  craftily  dis 
sembled,  and  the  high-flown  phrases  of  the  noble  rene 
gade  are  a  little  too  much  for  me." 

He  immediately  took  counsel  with  Lorimer. 

"  Buster, "  said  the  latter,  "  I  know  these  people.  My 
mother  and  sister  have  watched  their  daily  life.  I  will 
not  '  chop  logic  '  as  to  your  tight  to  withhold  the  hidden 
emphasized  words.  Naturally  it  is  the  grip  of  the  whole 
situation.  If  we  do  not  get  there  first  I  fear  that  Don 
Jose  will  remain  the  possessor  of  but  one  emerald. 
His  local  knowledge,  his  power  of  using  the  secret  cor 
respondence  of  the  Church  and  messengers  of  his  own, 
his  ability  to  delay  and  copy  the  last  chapter  of  the 
old  story — all  this  puts  us  virtually  at  his  mercy — if  he 
knows! 

"If  the  General  knows,  the  priest  will  divide  the 
knowledge  at  once.  We  can  tell  what  Inez  can  do  to 
aid.  She  does  not  know  even  these  details  as  yet. 
She  has  not  seen  the  document.  If  her  father  does 
not  tell  her  all  frankly,  before  your  return,  it  is  prob 
able  that  the  priest  has  sealed  his  lips.  Mark  you,  it 
was  Romero  himself  who  pushed  you  out  into  the  open, 
by  sending  you  to  meet  and  confer  with  Padre  Viciente. 
And  the  churchman  is  sly  enough  to  know  that  your 
own  professional  oath  as  well  as  mine  seals  our  lips  as 
regards  outsiders." 

"There  is  but  one  way,"  suggested  Nixon.  "Felipe 
is  no  hero,  but  if  he  could  get  quietly  away  to  Cuba, 
and  get  the  hidden  additional  deposit,  then  we  would 


62  HIS   CUBAN    SWEETHEART. 

be  safe  to  let  Inez  and  the  boy  know  all;  for  he  hates 
the  priest  with  the  stern  resentment  of  original  sin." 

"I  could  stay  here  with  my  mother  and  sister  and 
guard  Inez  and  could  easily  follow  the  priest  if  he  goes 
to  York.  He  is  too  sly  to  write  or  telegraph  important 
news  from  here.  You  might  post  Abercromby.  He 
could  'pipe'  the  padre  off  a  bit,  if  he  goes  away  with 
the  document.  So  you  will  be  free  to  slip  down  with 
Felipe  to  Matanzas  and  find  the  buried  secret  of  the 
leaden  casket,"  was  the  reply  of  Lorimer. 

The  doctor  was  startled ;  it  seemed  such  a  bold 
plan. 

"And  my  patient  ?  What  explanation  could  I  give  ? 
How  could  I  get  Felipe  quietly  away  and  down  there  ? " 
he  faltered. 

Frank  Lorimer  laughed.  "It's  as  plain  as  mud!  as 
we  used  to  say.  You  can  leave  your  written  direc 
tions  with  the  village  physician,  who  can  visit  Don 
Jose  twice  a  week.  If  there  is  anything  wrong 
then,  let  him  telegraph  down  to  your  'big  gun '  in 
New  York  to  come  up  and  see  the  General.  You  can 
do  this  trip  like  a  charm  in  three  weeks.  Wait  a  few 
days.  Let  the  priest  be  deceived  into  good  humor 
with  your  New  York  trip  and  your  absence  of  special 
'crowding  in."  I  will  make  Inez  post  Felipe  to  join 
you  quietly.  That  young  Ishmael  can  slip  away,  as  is 
his  wont,  for  a  descent  upon  New  York.  Let  him  join 
you  and  go  quietly  on  the  Havana  steamer.  There  are 
two  sailing  each  week.  Diabolus,  Jr.,  Juan  Valdes, 
will  ramble  off  to  look  for  Felipe,  but  not  find  him 
till  you  return.  Felipe,  in  his  lazy,  careless  way,  loves 
his  sister  Inez  a  little.  He  loves  money  and  pleasure 
even  more.  The  two  last  will  lure  him  to  Cuba's 
senoritas  and  monte." 

"But  if  he  should  blab?  Can  I  trust  him  ?"  said 
Nixon.  "  The  priest's  nephew  might  betray  our  pur 
pose." 

"  My  simple  son  of  Galen,"  smiled  Lorimer,  "you 
don't  tell  him  what  you  are  up  to  with  him  till  you  are 
safe  down  there,  do  you  see?  It  will  be  a  lark  for  him 
to  go.  And  he  has  been  years  and  years  up  here.  No 
one  can  possibly  recognize  him.  The  padre  will  be 


HIS   CUBAN    SWEETHEART.  63 

still  busied  weaving  his  web  around  Romero  here  and 
poring  over  the  papers  with  his  priestly  crew  in  New 
York.  I'll  spot  him  pretty  close.  In  any  case,  you 
get  there  the  first,  and  have  the  '  corpus  delicti '  a 
safety  in  your  hands.  After  that  we  can  laugh  at  fate, 
if  there  is  any  treasure  to  recover.  For  you  can  go 
aboard  any  man-of-war  we  have  there  or  else  deposit  the 
papers,  sealed,  in  our  Consulate  General,  in  your  own 
name.  Felipe,  of  course,  must  not  know  the  contents. 
In  this  you  must  show  all  your  nerve.  When  that 
deposit  is  opened  it  must  be  by  Inez's  own  hand,  which 
will  break  the  seal,  the  charm  and  the  curse  at  once." 

"  Lorimer,  you  are  a  genius,"  remarked  Nixon.  "I 
will  telegraph  to  my  Uncle  Bradford,  who  is  on  the 
flagship  down  there.  He  can  always  get  a  week's 
leave.  The  plan  is  the  only  one.  You  are  right." 

"The  thing  is  to  move  in  the  affair  before  the 
padre  may  make  a  discovery.  Now,  let  us  turn  in. 
I'll  do  the  photographic  business  to  a  charm,  and  on 
your  next  visit  to  New  York  you  can  make  every  secret 
arrangement  for  your  voyage.  I  will  have  Felipe  all 
primed  for  a  trip.  He  will  not  know  where  he  goes 
till  you  take  him  on  the  steamer.  I  will  also  hypnotize 
the  lovely  Inez  to  do  my  bidding."  And  Lorimer 
softly  laughed  as  he  said,  "Good  night." 

Nixon's  dreams  that  night  were  fevered  and 
graphic.  The  moonlit  reefs  of  Cuba,  the  breeze  sway 
ing  the  tropical  jungle,  the  strange  faces  of  the  motley 
plantation  crew,  all  these  were  mixed  up  with  vignettes 
of  the  pale-faced  old  veteran,  an  emerald  in  his  trem 
bling  fingers,  and  the  stern  faced  priest  crying:  "For 
bear  !  It  is  mine  !  " 

Yet  the  simplicity  and  invincibility  of  Lorimer's  plan 
pleased  the  doctor  when  he  sped  away  to  his  morning 
visit.  "It  will  settle  the  dream  of  years  forever.  If  there 
is  any  shadowy  crown  of  emeralds  awaiting  the  old  Don 
we  will  soon  know  it.  It  will  be  a  good  vacation  trip. 
There  will  be  no  harm  done.  And,  if  the  papers 
should  be  there,  then  I  can  guard  them  for  the  right 
ful  heir.  I  will  be  master  of  the  whole  situation,  and, 
supported  by  my  friends  here,  can  render  justice  to 
Inez  and  Felipe,"  cogitated  the  latter. 


64  HIS    CUBAN    SWEETHEART. 

Next  morning  the  Cuban  priest  was  pacing  under  the 
splendid  old  trees  of  the  park  in  earnest  converse  with 
Inez,  as  the  two  young  men  came  up.  "I'll  have  a 
few  words  with  the  Seiiorita, "  said  Lorimer,  "and  then 
hie  me  back  to  photography.  I  will  send  my  mother 
over  with  the  victoria  to  bring  you  at  twelve. " 

Doctor  Nixon  and  Padre  Viciente  exchanged  a  cor 
dial  morning  greeting.  The  young  man's  suaviter 
in  modo  had  lulled  the  priest,  whose  power  was  more 
potent  over  his  inferiors  than  his  equals. 

Guerra  sorrowfully  said:  "Don  Jose,  alas!  disap 
pointed,  baffled!  a  sore  blow  to  his  childish  hopes! 
We  have  gone  over  the  whole  document  a  dozen  times. 
It  cannot  give  us  what  is  not  there.  Only  an  expert 
of  the  Church  can  give  a  final  decision.  Go  in  and 
comfort  him,  my  son!  " 

Lorimer  found  time  to  whisper  to  his  friend  before  he 
departed:  "The  girl  knows  absolutely  nothing!  She 
is  in  the  dark  as  to  all — and — Felipe,  too!  So  we  are 
safe — as  yet. " 

"  Then  Padre  Viciente  means  to  engross  the  future 
direction  of  the  whole  affair,"  answered  Nixon  and 
entered  the  house. 

The  old  Don  was  sitting  up  in  his  bed  with  his  ema 
ciated  fingers  nervously  threading  a  rosary  as  he 
turned  his  eyes  fondly  upon  the  young  American.  A 
glittering  light  twinkled  in  his  eyes,  as  he  querously 
said :  ' '  And,  hijo  mio,  you  have  heard  all  ?  What 
think  you  ?  What  shall  I  do  ?  What  shall  we  do  ?  " 

Doctor  Nixon  delayed  a  few  moments  while  he  pro 
fessionally  busied  himself  with  the  old  man's  condition. 
The  need  of  stimulants,  of  holding  up  the  mirror  of 
hope,  of  sustaining  the  fever  of  his  life  dream,  was  ap 
parent.  "What  does  the  holy  father  advise?"  said 
Doctor  Jim,  with  cautious  casuistry. 

"  Nothing  beyond  submitting  the  document  itself  to 
the  ablest  scholars  available  in  New  York, — and  per 
haps  later  in  Havana.  He  is  my  last,  my  only  hope. 
He  will  go  down  to  the  great  city  and  busy  himself 
with  the  study.  Alas!  I  shall  never  see  the  lost  emer 
alds!  And  why  should  I  ?" 

His  gray  hair  falling  over  his  temples  trembled  as 


HIS  CUBAN   oWEETHEART.  65 

he  bowed  his  head.  "I  will  make  a  novena  for  the 
soul  of  the  sinful  man  who  brought  this  ghastly  shadow 
upon  the  name  of  Romero!  In  fasting  and  prayer  I 
will  atone,  for  the  sake  of  my  innocent  lamb,  Inez.  It 
is  not  for  myself  I  would  have  wealth,  but  Inez,  my  child 
of  sorrows,  she  should  have  been  truly  called  Dolores! 
I  must  speak  to  you,  to  the  Abogado,  to  the  gracious 
lady  at  Edgecliff.  Valga  me  Dios !  I  feel  rny  lamp 
of  life  fluttering  low  in  the  socket." 

Nixon  easily  divined  that  the  old  caballero  was  fear 
ful  of  the  future  welfare  of  his  child.  He  dared  not 
break  the  fairy  chain  of  the  golden  circle  to  soothe  the 
veteran.  Full  well  the  doctor  knew  that  Lorimer  was 
busied,  strangely  busied,  with  dreams  of  lightening  that 
future.  He  responded  at  hazard:  "She  is  the  last 
of  the  Romeros,  the  innocent  woman  hand.  Fate  owes 
her  this  one  reward — and  also  the  fulfillment  of  the 
strange  prophecy!  " 

"Alas!  the  veiled  secret  of  the  leaden  casket!" 
muttered  Don  Jose\  "See,  my  son!  "  He  handed  to 
the  doctor  a  single  emerald  stone  of  unusual  size.  It 
had  been  roughly  ground  en  cabochon,  evidently  by  rub 
bing  it  with  other  stones  of  the  same  class.  Its  irreg 
ular  facets  and  undisturbed  natural  oval  proved 
that  no  skilled  lapidary  had  reduced  it  to  its 
present  form.  When  with  a  semi-superstitious  awe 
Nixon  bore  it  to  the  golden  sunshine-flooded  window, 
its  sea-green  depths  and  rich  velvety  brilliancy  spoke 
of  the  beautiful  spirit  of  light  prisoned  in  its  adaman 
tine  heart. 

"It  is  the  accursed  spoil  of  the  past,"  murmured 
the  old  man.  "The  price  of  a  human  soul!  And 
there  were  hundreds  of  these  gems — hundreds!  I  am 
told  by  Viciente  that  this  single  stone  is  of  a  very  great 
value.  If  I  could  only  find  the  hoard  I  would  richly 
atone." 

Nixon  gently  tried  to  calm  the  old  soldier's  "fantas 
tic  self-reproaches." 

"General,"  he  said  gravely,  "your  doomed  ances 
tor  was  driven  by  foul  wrongs  to  shelter  among  these 
wild  corsairs.  He  struck  not  willingly  at  his  own 
kindred.  Moreover,  the  treasure  was  never  the  lawful 


66  HIS    CUBAN    SWEETHEART. 

property  of  the  Church.  And,  note  you  too,  he  died  a 
true  and  loyal  man.  He  ended  his  days  by  his  own 
fireside.  In  generations,  this  defection  has  been 
atoned,  and  you  must  not  burden  your  declining  years 
with  the  sorrows  of  the  past.  Should  the  secret  yield 
to  the  old  prophecy,  then  let  your  daughter  be  honestly 
the  keeper  of  the  emeralds.  They  are  her  inheritance, 
if  ever  found.  Hers  alone!" 

"I  will  counsel,  after  fasting  and  prayer,"  mur 
mured  the  General  faintly  as  he  leaned  back,  the  jewel 
in  his  hand. 

Doctor  Nixon  was  not  astonished  at  the  padre's 
sensible  cooperation  when  he  led  him  apart  and 
authoritatively  forbade  any  diminution  of  the  old  man's 
strength.  "  I  will  guard  him  and  remain  with  him, " 
said  the  priest  gravely.  "For  much  remains  to  be 
done  to  pierce  the  mystery.  But  there  is  certainly  a 
treasure,  and  I  will  find  it,"  he  added,  with  lambent 
gleaming  eyes. 

That  afternoon,  in  the  retirement  of  Lorimer's 
den,  the  two  young  men  safely  pored  over  the  copies 
of  the  document  which  baffled  the  priest's  plan  of 
shutting  all  others  out  of  the  quest. 

Nixon  was  provided  with  all  the  preliminaries  of  his 
inquiry  as  he  set  out  for  New  York.  "On  my  return  I 
will  announce  the  fact  of  my  being  called  away  for  a 
few  weeks,"  he  said,  dubiously,  for,  on  the  threshold, 
Miss  Ethel  Lorimer  laid  upon  him  her  fairy  commands 
for  a  short  absence. 

Rejoicing  in  being  at  least  one  step  nearer  the  Muiscas 
treasure  than  his  secret,  for  Nixon  dreamed  all  the 
way  to  New  York  of  the  eyes  which  would  brighten  at 
his  coming. 


HIS   CUBAN    SWEETHEART.  67 

CHAPTER  V. 

WAIT    TILL    WE    HEAR    FROM    NIXON. 

DURING  the  temporary  absence  of  the  doctor  Mrs. 
Lorimer  betook  herself  daily  to  Villa  Romero  to 
slake  the  curiosity  of  a  typical  daughter  of  Eve.  If  the 
Lady  of  Edgecliff  flattered  herself  that  the  adamantine 
composure  of  Padre  Viciente  would  yield  to  her  bon 
homie,  she  met  with  a  signal  defeat. 

"Perhaps  he  detests  heretics,"  murmured  the  fair 
widow.  But  the  active,  energetic  priest  went  ever 
smoothly  on  his  silent  way,  and  soon  gathered  up  the 
threads  of  the  household  into  his  sinewy  brown 
hands. 

There  was  no  new  life  infused  into  the  dreamy 
entoinage  of  the  bewildered  and  sorrowing  veteran,  but 
che  hand  of  a  new  master  was  there.  The  three  days 
of  Doctor  Nixon's  absence  made  even  the  placid  Inez 
tremble  for  her  own  future.  For  the  voice  of  the  padre 
now  dominated  all,  and  the  sick  room  of  the  old  Gen 
eral  was  sacred  to  the  "ugly  blackbird,"  as  the  restive 
Felipe  denominated  Padre  Guerra.  Basilic,  with  super 
stitious  awe,  ministered  to  Padre  Viciente's  wants.  The 
loud  voice  of  admonition  or  the  resonant  sound  of  the 
holy  office  of  the  Church  alone  was  heard  in  the  wing  of 
the  old  mansion  where  Don  Jose  was  sheltered. 

"He  has  stolen  my  father  from  me!"  cried  Inez 
throwing  herself  on  the  motherly  breast  of  Mrs.  Lori 
mer,  and  the  Cuban  girl's  eyes  flashed  in  resentment 
when,  for  the  first  time,  Padre  Guerra  led  her  away  by 
the  hand  from  the  side  of  the  General.  There  were 
papers,  maps  and  plans,  littering  the  table.  And  when 
the  offices  of  prayer  or  penance  busied  them  not,  the 
two  men  there  closeted  were  poring  over  the  old  docu 
ments,  so  far  a  Gibraltar  of  invulnerability. 

In  the  shaded  walks  of  the  glen,  Inez  poured  out 
her  passionate  plaint  to  her  rebellious  brother.  For 
Felipe  wandered  there  with  her  now,  big  with  the 
secret  of  his  impending  voyage. 


68  HIS    CUBAN    SWEETHEART. 

" 'Tis  a  cursed  old  raven!  "  moodily  said  the  boy. 
"  How  long  stays  he  here  ?  I  hate  all  his  mummery. 
Priests!  Priests!  Ever  hungry  for  money!  Our  father 
has  long  nourished  the  yellow  snake.  He  means  us  no 
good!  " 

And  the  young  Cuban's  hands  slid  angrily  into  his 
vest,  where  he  carried  the  cuchillo,  whose  silent  stroke 
has  ever  spoken  the  Cuban's  sudden  vengeance. 

"Patience,  Felipe!"  begged  Inez.  "Our  friends 
are  true.  This  dark  man  has  much  to  tell  our  father 
of  his  old  companerosof  Cuba,  of  the  fate  of  his  friends. 
And,  perhaps,  he  may  help  us  to  discover  the  treasure 
papa  dreams  of." 

"Yes!  As  the  wolf  helps  the  lamb,"  energetically 
cried  Felipe.  "  I  am  a  boy,  no  more.  When  I  come 
back  with  the  Americano  I  will  chase  him  out,  myself. 
For  can  you  not  see  that  our  father  weakens  daily?  " 

It  was  too  true,  for  there  was  no  cease  day  and  night 
to  the  round  of  wordy  lashing  Of  the  soul,  and  gloomy 
rebuke  heaped  by  the  padre  upon  the  memory  of  Fer 
nando  Aguilar  de  Romero. 

Frank  Lorimer's  spirited  counsel  caused  Inez  to 
openly  claim  a  daughter's  rights,  and  she  then  resolutely 
placed  herself  at  her  father's  bedside. 

"I  am  the  last  of  the  Romero's  to  bear  the  name  as 
maid,"  she  sobbed.  "Tell  me,  my  father,  of  your 
daily  cares,  for  Felipe  is  but  a  wild  boy  at  heart,  and  I 
would  divide  your  sorrows.  I  claim  that,  even  if  I  share 
not  your  confidence." 

So  at  last  the  General  gave  to  her  gentle  ears  the 
record  of  the  past,  and  with  a  prophetic  misgiving  told 
her  all.  In  vain  did  Padre  Viciente  fume  and  frown, 
the  spell  of  the  gentle  mother's  eyes  shining  down 
from  the  wall,  aided  a  daughter's  fond  entreaties. 

"  Think,  padre  mio,"  said  Inez,  "if  I  were  to  lose 
you,  what  is  the  world  to  me  ?  Alone,  friendless!  An 
exile  in  a  strange  land." 

"  There  is  the  convent  always,"  murmured  Don  Jose, 
"and  Padre  Viciente  will  be  near  you  to  aid." 

"Sooner  will  I  toil  as  a  servant!"  cried  Inez. 
"I  know  not  why,  but  he  is  no  friend  at  heart  to  us. 
I  feel  it!  I  know  it  And,  in  this  free  land, — he  can 


HIS    CUBAN    SWEETHEART.  69 

make  no  claim  on  me.  No,  my  father!  Tell  me  all. 
Let  your  love  guide  me  .  Let  my  mother's  memory 
bless  me.  For  I  fear  this  cold  man  who  is  a  stranger 
to  me.  If  you  have  known  him  in  the  past,  his  claims 
are  on  you  alone.  I  fear  him !  Oh,  I  fear  him !  " 

The  old  Don  pressed  his  daughter  fondly  to  his 
breast.  "Ah,  my  Inez!"  he  said,  glancing  timorous 
ly  at  the  door,  for  the  priest  found  many  occasions  for 
furtive  entry.  "Then  I  shall  tell  our  gracious  friend 
Senora  Lorimer,  of  the  little  store  I  have  saved  for 
you  alone.  Felipe  must  never  know.  •  He  is  wasteful 
and  lazy.  Poor  lad!  And  yet  I  have  deprived  him 
wrongfully  of  his  birthright.  But  for  my  madness  he 
would  be  the  lord  of  Hacienda  Jabacoa  and  perhaps  high 
in  rank  and  station.  Ashes  of  Life!  My  dead  youth 
rises  up  to  accuse,  to  reproach  me!  " 

The  old  man's  head  was  bowed,  and  his  eyes  were 
tear-laden  as  he  whispered:  "Listen!  Alma  mia! 
Padre  Viciente  goes  to  New  York  soon.  He  will 
try  and  read  the  secret  of  the  old  chronicle.  I 
will  tell  you  when  to  bring  Senora  Lorimer  to  me.  She 
is  kind  and  noble  at  heart.  She  loves  you.  To  her  I 
will  tell  all  before  you,  and  the  young  Abogado  will  be 
a  brother  to  you." 

The  old  veteran  sighed,  but  never  saw  the  crim 
son  flood  which  tinged  the  pale  face  of  the  Cuban 
beauty.  For  Inez  head  was  bowed  and  the  trembling 
hand  of  love  rested  on  her  dark  tresses. 

The  girl  started  up  in  a  sudden  fear  as  the  harsh 
voice  of  the  priest  broke  the  silence.  "It  is  the 
hour  of  prayer,"  he  said,  and  so  the  black  robe  threw 
its  shadow  again  between  the  loving  girl  and  her  sire. 

"Vayase  V.  con  Dios,  hija  mta,"  murmured  Don  Jose". 
"  If  the  treasure  should  be  found,  then — then  I  could 
die  in  peace! " 

The  stern  priest  pointed  to  the  door.  And  the  girl 
went  silently  out  of  the  room. 

The  strange  preoccupation  of  Dr.  James  Nixon 
astonished  his  intimates,  as  he  sped  around  in  Gotham 
with  an  unprofessional  hurry.  "What's  up?"  they 
asked. 

"I'm    going   away   on    a  little  hunt,"  he  jocularly 


70  HIS    CUBAN    SWEETHEART. 

remarked,  "and  have  much  to  do  to  prevent  a  shock  to 
the  vitality  of  my  innumerable  patients." 

In  the  hurry  of  the  three  days  William  Abercromby, 
M.D.,  was  a  tower  of  strength.  He  had  dug  up  the 
last  quaint  detail  of  the  romance  of  the  Caribbean  in  the 
great  libraries.  Sundry  musty  folios  and  octavos  were 
assembled  under  lock  and  key  in  a  "fair  cedar  chest  " 
in  the  placid  office  of  the  two  embryo  medicos. 

"I  believe  the  healthful  air  of  our  lair  would  set 
even  a  mummy  at  dancing  Ta-ra-ra-boom-de-ay ! "  con 
fidently  admitted  Abercromby.  "If  I  take  a  news 
paper  its  death-column  shrinks!  Even  the  janitor 
tells  me  he  never  hears  of  any  sick  people  around  here. " 

To  this  Nixon  asked  jeeringly,  "Can  I  have  been 
changed  at  my  birth  ?  Was  I  really  designed  for  a 
stock  broker,  or  an  auctioneer,  or  perhaps  a  leading 
boniface  ?  I  evidently  have  no  place  with  the  dead  and 
dying.  I  can  only  heal  myself." 

"Speaking  of  being  healed,  my  festive  filibuster," 
laughed  William,  "  Heel  yourself  !  You  go  into  a  land 
Of  dagos.  I  will  back  this  hammerless  38  calibre 
revolver  against  any  naraja  that  ever  flashed  in  an 
assassin's  hand.  It  is  like  Frank  Lorimer's  Mam- 
brino  mare.  All  you  have  to  do  is  to  hold  her  straight 
and  let  her  go." 

Doctor  Jim  replied.  "  Put  it  up!  By  this  I  do  not 
mean  you  are  to  pawn  it,  but  get  it  out  of  sight." 

"Not  a  bit  of  it,"  resolutely  said  Abercromby. 
"  Many  a  good  man  has  made  a  premature  and  indif 
ferently  developed  angel  for  a  sudden  want  of  this  very 
kind  of  'selected  hardware."  You  do  not  know  what 
may  happen.  I  have  a  nice  little  combination  of  a 
money  belt  and  forty  cartridges,  with  this  '  nickeled 
chamber  of  horrors.'  You  will  promise  me  that  you 
will  carry  this  on  the  trip,  and  till  I  give  you  leave  to 
unarm.  Seriously,  Jim!  You  will  run  into  some  snag 
or  another  in  this  current  of  blind  adventure.  You  will 
be  led  very  far  away  from  where  you  started,  my  boy. 
You  are  now  only  at  the  fork  of  the  road !  " 

The  departing  comrade's  brow  grew  gloomy  and  his 
face  hardened.  "  Perhaps,"  said  Nixon.  A  strange 
chill  came  oVer  him.  They  were  alone  in  the  office,  and 


HIS    CUBAN    SWEETHEART.  71 

the  moonlight  fell  upon  the  merry   crowds   passing  in 
the  lighted  streets. 

But,  far  away,  at  Villa  Romero,  Inez  had  led  Felipe 
out  into  the  fragrant  groves  and  wandered  up  the  glen 
away  from  the  house.  She  was  giving  her  last  sisterly 
counsel  to  her  light-minded  brother. 

"  You  will  have  now  a  chance  to  show  yourself  a 
man,  mi  hennano.  To  help  me— ^to  help  yourself. 
To-morrow  the  American  doctor  comes  here  and  he 
will  take  you  away!  You  shall  have  money,  all  you 
need.  You  shall  find  I  will  guard  our  father,  and  watch 
the  plotting  priest.  For  there  is  something  he  knows — 
something  he  would  have — something  he  would  rob  us 
of — or  grasp  for  his  own  dark  ends.  Swear  to  me  that 
you  will  be  a  man,  for  our  mother's  sake.  And  never 
divulge  your  going  away  to  Juan.  Not  a  word  of 
where  you  go — of  what  you  do.  For  he  would  tell  his 
uncle.  Oh,  Madre  de  Dios !  How  I  fear  that  man! ' ' 

"I  will  obey  you,"  said  Felipe,  startled  out  of  his 
usual  lazy  calm.  He  was  really  brave  and  loyal  at 
heart,  though  he  knew  it  not.  There  had  never  been 
a  single  coward  in  the  long  line  of  Romeros. 

"I  trust  to  your  honor,  Felipe,"  said  the  beautiful 
girl,  as  she  stood  in  the  broken  moonlight.  Her 
graceful  figure  swayed  with  emotion,  her  dark  eyes 
gleaming  in  a  thrill  of  tender  love  as  she  faltered  : 
"  You  are  young  and  heedless.  The  head  might  go 
wrong,  but  the  heart  never.  Swear  to  me  now  on  our 
mother's  crucifix  that  you  will  never  tell  any  one  f 
your  quest  until  I  bid  you  !  " 

Then  the  young  caballero  kissed  the  cross  and 
muttered  in  a  broken  voice:  "  I  swear  !  " 

They  started  as  Inez  solemnly  said:  "Juan  is  the 
padre's  assistant,  \  fear." 

"What  is  that?"  exclaimed  Felipe,  springing 
quickly  to  the  shrubbery.  "  I  thought  that  I  saw 
some  one  moving." 

Their  nerves  were  unstrung  with  the  agitation  of 
their  first  parting. 

"  Perhaps  only  a  dog  !  It  was  nothing,"  said  Inez, 
as  the  brother  and  sister  wandered  back,  hand  in  hand, 
to  the  lonely  house. 


7«  HIS   CUBAN    SWEETHEART. 

Nixon  and  Abercromby  sat  late  that  night  in  distant 
New  York,  in  a  last  conclave  over  the  secret  expedi 
tion.  "Don't  fail  to  call  on  me  in  any  way,  Nixon," 
said  his  friend.  "  Money — telegraphs — anything  ! 
Watch  every  one  around  you,  and  for  God's  sake  look 
out  for  that  imprudent  young  Cuban.  He  is  about  as 
manageable  as  a  young  tiger  on  a  silk  string.  One  jump 
and  you  lose  him  forever.  Get  to  that  secret  deposit 
as  soon  as  you  can.  If  you  linger,  the  padre  will  surely 
be  there  before  you.  Mind  your  eye  and  God  bless  you ! 
If  you  unearth  any  emeralds  of  the  kind  and  size  you 
described  and  identified,  Tiffany's  buyer  says  they  are 
worth  ten  thousand  dollars  apiece  !  For  such  a  hoard 
men  will  plot,  will  betray,  will  even  murder.  I  trust 
you  in  all  but  your  own  honest  nature.  For  foul  play 
only  is  what  I  fear  !  Don't  be  led  into  any  trap — into 
any  false  position." 

"  What  do  you  fear  ?  "  said  Nixon.  "The  Spanish 
boy  will  be  true  to  himself,  will  he  not  ?  " 

"  Perhaps, "  answered  his  chum.  "I  will  warrant, 
though,  that  you  will  run  against  the  unexpected  before 
you  are  done.  The  great  thing  is  to  prevent  any 
special  hubbub  about  your  departure,  so  as  to  keep 
Don  Jose"  in  quietude.  If  he  should  note  Felipe's 
absence  and  make  a  racket,  then  your  yellow  enemy 
might  be  alarmed.  But,  Nixon,  if  you  make  a  natural 
exit,  the  padre  will  be  overjoyed  to  have  the  field 
to  himself.  He  will  put  the  old  relic  through  a  novena, 
and  perhaps  make  him  swear  to  yield  up  the  spoil  if 
it  is  ever  recovered." 

"  Don  Jose  will  never  do  that,"  firmly  replied  Nixon, 
"He  has  a  melancholy  faith  that  the  prediction 
will  accomplish  itself  in  some  way.  Though  I  really 
think  he  has  little  provision  made  for  Inez's  future,  and 
the  shadowy  'chateaux  en  Espagne  '  of  his  confiscated 
estates,  are  about  as  real,  about  as  near  to  the  helpless 
girl,  as  these  green-jack-o'-lantern  emeralds.  She  is 
almost  helpless  in  the  priest's  hands.  He  wants  to 
lock  her  up  in  a  Cuban  convent. 

"  If  this  is  so  then  mind  your  eye,  Nixon,"  gravely 
replied  Abercromby.  "  From  what  you  tell  me  of  the 
priest's  resolute  character  and  his  haughty  gall,  he  will 


HIS    CUBAN    SWEETHEART.  73 

go  in  for  the  futurity  stakes — as  a  winning  dark  horse. 
And,  how  do  you  know  but  what  the  priestly  chronicles 
have  described  in  detail,  all  these  secrets  of  the  past  ? 
It's  but  a  run  over  to  Cartegena  and  Maracaibo,  and 
the  Bishop  of  Merida  is  sure  to  have  all  the  old  records. 
You  may  be  assured  that  Inez's  future  is  in  your  hands 
— or^the  padre's  !  " 

"I  know  my  responsibility,"  soberly  replied 
Nixon,  "and  I'll  have  what's  hidden  under  those 
two  mystic  stories  or  I'll  never  come  back!  " 

"Depend  on  me,"  gaily  cried  Abercromby  the 
next  morning  as  Nixon  boarded  the  upriver  train. 
"On  getting  your  telegram  I  will  put  all  aboard  the 
Santiago  de  Cuba,  and  take  two  first-class  tickets  for 
Henry  Morgan  and  Antonio  Herrera.  Let  the  lad  come 
right  down  here  by  train.  I  will  meet  him  at  the  South 
Ferry  Hotel.  You  can  then  take  the  West  Shore  road 
and  come  to  the  steamer  by  Jersey  City.  There's  little 
chance  of  anyone  following  you  both  in  that  way.  Now 
I'll  bet  you  a  champagne  breakfast  if  you  ask  the  old 
Don  to  see  the  manuscript  or  the  emerald,  that  you 
will  find  the  padre  has  spirited  them  both  away — in 
your  absence." 

"Done!"  laughed  Nixon;  yet  he  started  in  sur 
prise  as  he  closed  an  examination  of  his  patient  that 
afternoon. 

"  I  had  hardly  time  to  examine  the  document,  Don 
Jose,"  remarked  Nixon  carelessly,  "and  as  I  find  you 
so  well,  I  can  easily  make  a  little  trip  which  I  had  in 
view.  I  would  also  like  to  see  your  beautiful  gem." 

"When  you  return,  my  son,"  replied  the  courteous 
old  rebel.  "For  my  good  priest  Padre  Viciente  has 
already  submitted  them  to  the  experts  of  the  church 
in  New  York.  It  may  take  a  season  of  study  to  decipher 
any  hidden  secrets  of  the  paper.  A  special  mes 
senger  came  here  and  conferred  with  us.  One  sent 
by  those  who  know  all  the  history  of  our  beautiful 
island.  And  we  have  hopes — yes,  hopes.  If  Inez  were 
only  made  sure  of  her  future,  then,"  smiled  the  old 
man  patiently,  "the  sooner  I  see  my  lost  wife  again 
the  happier  for  me."  And  his  wandering  eyes  sought 
the  gentle  face  of  the  dead  smiling  down  from  the  wall. 


74  H*S   CUBAN    SWEETHEART. 

"  I  do  not  like  to  leave  you,"  doubtfully  said  Nixon. 
"  But  you  are  in  such  good  condition  that  I  will  go 
gladly  on  one  condition." 

"  Name  it,  my  son,"  the  general  eagerly  assented. 

"  That  if  you  are  ill  you  will  permit  your  daughter 
to  telegraph  for  my  associate  in  New  York,  Dr.  Aber- 
cromby.  He  will  bring  with  him  an  expert  who  would 
be  only  too  happy  to  meet  and  know  you.  Thus  I  can 
leave  you  happily." 

"I  promise,"  the  graceful  old  Cuban  answered. 

And  Nixon  most  joyously  cried:  "  I  am  free,  then, 
to  go  to-night!  " 

The  padre  entering,  was  in  his  blandest  armor  of 
perfect  self-control  as  he  watched  the  leave-taking  of 
the  circle  of  young  people. 

The  road  wagon  which  was  to  convey  Doctor  Nixon 
to  the  station  presented  a  sportsmanlike  appearance 
with  a  gun  case,  fishing  rod,  and  sundry  objects  of 
pleasure  travel.  There  was  some  little  soberness  in 
Nixon's  good-by  to  Miss  Ethel  Lorimer.  "Watch 
over  Miss  Inez  while  I  am  gone,"  he  said.  "Her 
father  needs  brighter  company  than  the  gloomy  priest. 
Is  he  not  fond  of  you  ?  " 

Miss  Lorimer  pouted:  "The  General  is  my  especial 
cavalier  !  " 

"Then    Inez   to  go  in   with  you    and    brighten   up 

his  loneliness.     It  would  cheer  him.     And  if  you  see 

any  strangers,  anything  unusual,  around  Villa  Romero, 

do  not  fail  to  tell  your  brother.      Promise  me  this,  for 

Inez's  sake — if  not  for  my  own  !  " 

The  girl's  face  kindled  with  a  happy  light,  as  she 
said:  "I  promise  for  all  our  sakes  !  You  must  win 
great  renown  in  the  strange  case.  Tell  me,  do  you 
think  there  is  really  a  concealed  fortune  ?  " 

"  I  do  not  know,"  doubtfully  remarked  the  doctor. 
"  But  there  is  some  scheming  around  the  General  which 
smacks  too  much  of  this  world  to  be  spiritual.  Do 
you  know  if  he  has  any  other  property  ?  " 

"I  can  only  tell  you  this,"  thoughtfully  replied 
the  bright  girl;  "Mr.  Sheaver,  the  president  of 
the  village  bank,  told  me  that  he  had  the  custom  of 


HIS   CUBAN    SWEETHEART.  75 

sending  the  General's  coupons  always  down  to  New 
York  for  him  to  be  cashed  quarterly." 

"Then  he  must  have  some  securities,"  mused 
Nixon,  "not  in  Munoz's  hands.  I  suppose  the  padre 
will  perhaps  go  in  for  those." 

As  Nixon  drove  away  he  imparted  to  Lorimer  his 
sister's  chatter.  "  We  may  be  on  a  false  scent,  Frank," 
he  said  gravely.  "  It  seems  that  General  Romero  has 
some  affairs  outside  of  the  banker  Munoz's  hands.  Has 
he  accumulated  a  special  deposit  for  Inez  ?  It  may  be 
more  than  we  know.  Now,  who  knows  but  that  Padre 
Guerra  has  fabricated  these  old  papers  to  excite 
Romero  !  There  is  one  thing  certain — he  has  come  to 
stay.  He  may  be  only  scheming  for  the  old  man's 
savings. 

"  I  tell  you  your  mission  at  home  is  as  important  as 
mine,"  continued  Nixon.  "Your  duty  is  even  more 
complicated.  You  must  probe  this  while  I  am  away. 
I  am  uneasy  about  Felipe.  Is  he  to  be  depended 
on  ?  " 

"All  right  !"  cheerfully  said  Lorimer.  "Juan  is 
away  amusing  himself  at  pond  fishing,  and  he  dare  not 
openly  disobey  his  iron-willed  uncle.  I  posted  Inez  to 
have  old  Basilio  watch  the  boy.  Felipe,  roaming 
around  the  village  as  usual,  will  take  the  evening  train 
alone.  I  will  telegraph  to  Abercromby  the  very 
moment  I  see  him  aboard.  I  will  also  see  young 
Arthur  Sheaver,  the  cashier  of  the  bank.  He  is  an 
academy  chum,  and  will  tell  me  anything  he  may  know 
about  the  General's  securities.  So  on  your  return  I  will 
have  all  the  points." 

"  Good  !  "  answered  Nixon.  "  I  feel  that  this  is  a 
serious  matter.  I'm  going  to  run  up  the  river  as  far  as 
Rhinebeck.  I'll  cross  there  and  get  down  unobserved 
to  Jersey  City.  But  we  must  hurry.  It's  near  train 
time.  Hello!  That's  strange, "added  the  doctor,  as  he 
watched  a  farmer's  light  wagon  trundling  on  after 
them. 

"  What  ?  "  asked  Frank,  in  a  half  doze  of  reverie. 

"That  fellow  drives  pretty  good  stock.  We  have 
not  left  him  a  length  for  the  last  mile." 

"  Oh,  those  fellows  all  breed  smart  horses  for  the 


76  HIS   CUBAN    SWEETHEART. 

market ! "  laughed  Lorimer,  as  he  touched  up  the 
Mambrino  mare. 

At  the  station  the  grip  of  the  "Skull  and  Bones"  told 
all  that  the  two  friends  would  express. 

As  the  engine  whistled,  Lorimer  did  not  see,  as  he 
pushed  his  way  to  the  telegraph  office,  a  lad  squirm  out 
of  the  wagon  rattling  up  and  catch  the  very  last  car  of 
the  up-river  train. 

"  I  flatter  myself  that  was  a  particularly  neat  job," 
remarked  the  young  lawyer  as  he  retired  from  the 
telegraph  office.  "I  will  defy  anyone  to  find  out 
whither  Nixon  is  bound!" 

And  yet  a  youth  buried  in  a  corner  of  the  long  car 
never  once  lifted  his  glittering  black  eyes  from  the 
stalwart  form  of  the  doctor. 

"  He  must  not  see  me,"  mused  Juan  Valdes,  as  he 
muffled  his  neck  and  face  with  a  scarf  of  convenient 
thickness. 

That  night  at  twelve  the  tenant  of  Room  42,  Tay 
lor's  Hotel,  was  heartily  rejoiced  as  a  telegram  was 
brought  to  his  door.  For  it  told  "  Mr.  Henry  Mor 
gan  "  that  his  chum  had  caged  up  the  festive  young 
panther,  "  Antonio  Herrera,"at  that  famous  "  Fisher's 
Boarding  House,"  the  South  Ferry  Hotel. 

"  Stole  away  and  the  coast  clear,"  thankfully  mut 
tered  Doctor  Nixon  as  he  "turned  in"  for  the  night. 
But  while  he  slept  a  brown-skinned,  bright-eyed  Span 
ish  lad  chatted  with  the  "all-night"  porter,  who  be 
came  very  communicative  under  the  influence  of  sundry 
cigars  and  frequent  liquid  refreshment. 

"  That's  his  baggage  there,  yer  see,  and  he's  in  the 
call  list  for  six  o'clock,"  the  porter  volunteered.  At 
six  promptly  the  hovering  Spanish  lad  across  the  street 
was  watching  with  gleaming  eyes  the  two  entrances  to 
Taylor's  hostelry.  Then  as  "Mr.  Henry  Morgan" 
came  out  and  walked  briskly  down  West  street  to 
where  the  Santiago  de  Cuba  was  pouring  out  its 
carbon  clouds,  Juan  stealthily  followed,  chuckling  to 
himself:  "Ah!  Carajo!  now  I've  got  him." 

Thirty  minutes  after,  the  Santiago  de  Cuba  glided 
out  into  the  dancing  waters  of  the  North  River, 
and  Juan  Valdes,  stowed  away  in  the  chief  steward's 


HIS   CUBAN    SWEETHEART.  77 

room,  his  furtive  eyes  gleaming,  laughed  in  triumph. 
"Felipe  and  the  Americano,  bound  for  Havana.  I 
shall  earn  the  padre's  regalo  !  " 

The  gray  mist  of  Sandy  Hook  closed  around  the 
swift  steamer,  which  was  well  on  her  way  to  Cuba 
before  the  sunset  gilded  the  Jersey  coast. 

Two  hours  after,  Frank  Lorimer  walked  the  portico 
.of  his  old  home  in  a  rage  of  baffled  apprehension 
"The  devil  is  to  pay!  For  there  is  noway  I  can 
warn  Nixon  save  by  telegraphing  to  his  uncle  on  board 
the  Kears  trge.  It  may  be  a  week,  two  weeks,  be 
fore  he  gets  it.  The  flagship  may  be  away  cruising. 
I  must  go  down  on  the  morning  train  and  meet  Aber- 
cromby.  For  it  seems,  after  all,  the  fight  is  not  to  be 
here.  It  is  down  there!  " 

Lorimer  read  again  the  yellow  slip  as  he  consumed  a 
last  cigar. 

"  Followed  our  man  to  the  Spanish  Consulate  General. 
He  stayed  there  two  hours.  Fear  something  wrong.  Party  left 
all  right." 

"  What  the  devil  was  the  priest  doing  at  the  Spanish 
Consulate  General's  ?  "  muttered  Frank  Lorimer  in  a 
vague  alarm.  And  where  is  Juan  anyway?  that  bothers 
me  too.  I  must  see  Abercromby.  Has  the  padre  dis 
covered  the  hidden  clue  in  the  parchment  ?  If  so, 
then  all  is  lost.  He  could  cable  to  Cuba  and  be  first  on 
the  ground  with  his  imps." 

The  lawyer  guessed  correctly  !  The  Comandante 
at  Matanzas  had  already  received  a  cipher  dispatch, 
which  caused  him  to  be  on  the  alert  for  "filibuster" 
spies.  He  was  a  fiery  Spaniard  who  burned  to  repeat 
the  quick  butchery  of  the  Virginius  affair. 

Unsuspicious  of  the  cable,  Doctor  James  Nixon  was 
busied  every  moment  as  the  Santiago  de  Cuba  sped 
over  the  Gulf  Stream,  on  past  Bermuda.  By  stern 
repression  he  had  finally  conquered  Felipe's  aimless 
wanderings  over  the  boat.  "You  may  be  known  to 
some  one,"  the  young  American  insisted.  "These 
vessels  are  all  crowded  with  adventurers,  spies,  secret 
customs  agents,  and  we  may  be  dogged  and  followed. 
Be  a  man  for  your  own  sake,  Felipe,  and  for  your 
sister's." 


78  HIS   CUBAN    SWEETHEART. 

So  in  the  brief  voyage  Nixon  vigorously  enforced 
his  prudent  directions  to  the  end  that  Felipe  consumed 
unnumbered  packets  of  papelitos  and  diverted  himself 
with  a  prodigious  amount  of  sleep.  Hour  after  hour, 
the  doctor  pored  over  the  singularly  exhaustive  collec 
tion  of  Caribbean  literature  scraped  together  by  Aber- 
cromby,  who  did  nothing  by  halves.  Even  in  "  Tom 
Cringle's  Log,"  "The  History  of  Lafitte,"  ''Henry 
Gringo's  novels  "  and  quaint  old  Spanish  and  French 
tomes,  there  was  congenial  pabulum  in  the  "  olla 
porida  "  raked  up  by  his  chum. 

"It  is  a  strange  quest,"  mused  Nixon,  "but  I  will 
probe  the  old  story  and  at  least  baffle  the  sneaking 
padre  for  the  time  being." 

But  his  mind  was  filled  with  many  dark  forebodings 
as  he  closed  his  last  volume  when  the  Santiago  de  Citba 
sighted  Morro  Castle  and  the  overhanging  fortress  on 
the  hill. 

It  was  a  strange  quest,  this  dangerous  secret  visit  of 
Felipe  ! 

And  disappointments  began  at  the  very  landing. 
There  was  no  American  war  vessel  in  the  harbor  !  The 
first  chattering  boatman  told  the  doctor  that  the  Kear- 
sargc  had  left  the  day  before  for  a  week's  cruise. 

An  angry  wrangle  with  the  customs  officers  over 
their  baggage  delayed  their  arrival  at  the  railway 
station.  Even  as  they  drove  up  the  train  they  wanted 
to  board  pulled  out  without  them,  speeding  by  them  on 
its  course  for  Matanzas. 

"  No  train  till  to-morrow  morning,"  stormed  Nixon, 
who  feared  a  night  in  Havana.  Felipe  might  go  astray. 

And  the  boy,  with  a  scared  face,  turned  and  said: 
"  Carajo  !  if  he  were  not  in  New  York,  I  would  swear 
that  I  saw  Juan's  face  at  a  car  window." 

To  which  the  doctor  gruffly  said;  "Impossible,"  as 
they  sought  an  hotel. 


19 


BOOK  II. 
IN  THE  GRASP  OF  THE  SPANIARD. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

"  PASADO    FOR    LAS    ARMAS." 

1 '  THE  devil  fights  against  me !  "  snarled  Nixon  at  the 
obscure  side  street  hotel  which  the  doctor  chose  as  a 
hiding  place  for  the  night.  "If  we  had  not  missed  the 
train  by  these  insolent  officials'  twaddling,  I  would 
have  already  had  the  boy  safe  in  the  little  village  of 
Jibacoa." 

The  young  American  had  taken  two  veranda  rooms 
on  the  second  story,  and  through  the  long  summer 
afternoon  kept  watch  over  his  restless  charge. 

"No  one  knows  me.  I  was  only  a  child  when  I  left 
Cuba,"  morosely  muttered  Felipe  with  remarks  such  as: 
Yo  no  soy  peon  !  and  other  indications  of  social  mutiny. 

"  See  here,  Romero,"  sharply  returned  the  doctor. 
"  You  have  given  me  your  word  of  honor.  Now,  if 
you  make  any  outbreak  here  I'll  abandon  you  without 
money  and  go  back  and  tell  your  sister  you  are  no 
caballero.  Remember  where  we  are.  Your  father  has 
only  you  to  depend  on  in  the  world.  This  is  the  one 
chance  of  your  life." 

"Tell  me  what  I  came  here  to  do,  then,"  insolently 
cried  Felipe,  "  I  am  no  baby!  " 

"  Not  till  the  hour  when  we  reach  your  birthplace," 
resolutely  said  Nixon,  as  the  angry  youth  betook  him 
self  to  fresh  cigars  and  some  claret  cup,  and  mooned 
away  the  dull  hours,  gazing  down  from  the  palm  shaded 
veranda  at  the  throng  pouring  by  on  the  shell-paved 
street.  The  doctor,  busied  with  maps  and  plans,  tied 


80  HIS   CUBAN    SWEETHEART. 

the  boy  to  his  side  for  a  time  by  questions  as  to  the 
topography  of  the  hacienda,  its  features  and  the  village 
of  Jibacoa.  Felipe  sullenly  gave  up  what  scanty 
information  he  had. 

"  Thank  God,  the  wild  youngster  has  no  money," 
mused  Nixon  eyeing  him  askance;  for  flashing  eyed 
senoras  in  passing  volantes  cast  side-long  glances  at 
the  oval  faced  young  patrician  exile — the  rattle  of  dice, 
click  of  billiard  balls,  and  gay  shouts  of  the  gamblers 
rose  up  from  below. 

Officers  dashed  by  on  splendid  steeds,  the  cry  of  the 
fruitero  and  lemonade  seller  arose,  and  the  lad  grew 
craftily  silent  as  the  evening  fell.  Nixon  was  deceived 
by  his  apparent  quiet,  and  alas  !  he  knew  not  that  Inez 
Romero  had  pressed  all  her  slender  hoard  of  golden 
savings  upon  her  heedless  brother.  In  New  York 
Abercromby  had  sternly  watched  the  Cuban,  so  that 
the  ready  gold  was  now  itching  the  boy's  palm,  as  he 
thought  of  monte,  faro,  of  the  burning  words  whispered 
in  his  own  tongue  by  beauties  swaying  in  the 
fandango  to  the  melodious  monotony  of  the  guitars. 

"I  must  get  him  quietly  out  of  Havana,  and  then, 
by  Heaven  !  I'll  take  the  first  schooner  from  Matanzas 
to  Key  West,  when  our  search  is  over.  If  he  should 
break  away  from  here  it  would  expose  all,  and  so  win 
me  the  old  General's  undying  hatred";  cogitated  the 
American. 

So  Nixon,  ordering  a  dinner  in  their  rooms,  kept 
the  boy  in  sight  as  he  worked,  and  rejoiced  in  the 
penniless  condition  of  the  young  sybarite.  "  He  won't 
stray  away  far  without  cash.  Money  the  basis  of  all 
fun,  the  root  of  all  evil.  '  No  money,  no  honey  ! ' ' 
chuckled  the  Doctor. 

But  James  Nixon  did  not  notice  the  triumphant  gleam 
of  the  lad's  eyes  when  he  lounged  off  to  bed. 

"  I  can  depend  on  you,  Felipe  ?  "  he  said  heartily,  as 
the  boy  pleasantly  waved  his  cigar  and  went  to  his 
room  humming  an  old  Spanish  love  song.  A  true  son 
of  Cuba. 

The  American  sat  till  late  pondering  over  the 
morrow.  "  We  have  the  whole  afternoon  to  reconnoitre 
the  hacienda  and  the  old  church.  I  can  at  once  make 


HIS   CUBAN    SWEETHEART.  8l 

up  my  mind  what  work  is  to  be  done  to  dig  under  or 
pry  away  the  sills  of  the  door.  '  La  puerta  mayor  !  ' 
The  construction  may  tell  me  something,  and  I  fancy 
it  was  under  the  door  of  the  hacienda  itself,  the  old 
repentant  buccaneer  volunteer  hid  the  other  half  of  the 
story.  My  God  !  If  I  only  knew  how  to  act  !  There 
must  be  no  mistake  !  No  throw  away  of  time  !  It  is 
madness  to  think  that  the  boy  Valdes  is  on  our  track. 
Impossible  ! " 

With  great  circumspection  Nixon  strolled  out  to  the 
cable  office  and  sent  a  dispatch  to  Abercromby.  For 
prudence  sake  he  gave  no  address  or  signature  Only 
the  following  words  told  the  story : 

"  Havana.    Here  all  right ;  delayed  one  day  ;  get  there  to-morrow." 

Then  he  lay  down  to  his  troubled  sleep,  slipping  the 
hammerless  revolver  under  the  pillow  of  his  bed. 

The  young  man  was  content,  for  he  had  peeped  into 
Felipe's  room  and  the  lad  was  already  in  his  bed.  He 
took  a  last  look  at  the  sparkling  heavens,  with  the 
great  stars  swimming  on  high,  trembling  globes  of  light 
in  the  thin-drawn  blue.  The  magnolia  incense  breathed 
in  damp  richness  from  the  groves,  where  great  palms 
over-topped  the  orange  trees,  and  the  sound  of 
laughter,  the  rich,  happy  laughter  of  love,  reached  him, 
broken  with  the  tinkling  thrill  of  humming  guitars. 

"  A  land  cf  siestas,  of  manana,  of  dolce  far  niente,"  he 
sighed  softly,  as  he  lay  down  to  dream  of  the  buccaneers, 
whose  devious  track  he  was  still  wandering;  fierce 
Lolonois,  the  inhuman  Morgan  and  his  hellish  crew, 
and  the  stern  face  of  Padre  Viciente  Guerra. 

He  awoke  in  the  sulky  gray  of  the  early  dawn. 

A  loud  fracas  in  the  adjoining  room  called  him 
quickly  to  Felipe's  aid.  Pistol  in  hand  he  ran  in,  to 
find  several  hotel  servants  trying  to  control  the  youth, 
flushed  with  wine  and  maddened  by  debauch.  The 
truth  flashed  over  him.  Breaking  his  word,  the  boy 
had  stolen  out  and  made  a  night  of  it! 

It  was  with  a  sad  heart  that  the  young  doctor  battled 
until  near  train  time  to  bring  the  foolish  prodigal  up  to 
traveling  condition.  And  in  a  corner  of  the  seat,  his 
eyes  downcast,  and  coiled  up  in  guarded  moroseness, 
Felipe  Romero  cowered  until  the  Matanzas  train  swept 


83  HIS   CUBAN    SWEETHEART. 

around  the  beautiful,  varied  shore  into  a  little  cove  in 
the  early  afternoon.  Then  he  stubbornly  said:  "This 
is  Jibacoa. " 

There  were  only  a  few  natives,  half  naked  and  dull- 
eyed,  hanging  around  the  little  station  near  the  coral 
reefs  of  the  encircling  bay.  Out  on  the  sapphire  sea 
a  few  white  sails  gleamed  as  James  Nixon  strode  out 
into  the  furnace  glare  of  the  sun  An  ox-cart  near,  with 
a  lazy  peon,  afforded  them  means  of  transport  for  their 
luggage  to  the  little  hamlet  clustered  on  the  cove,  where 
a  few  whitewashed  adobe  houses  looked  out  upon  the 
beautiful  cayos,  whose  green  island  forms  were  snug 
retreats  for  Carib  fishers,  wreckers,  cigar  smugglers  and 
illicit  traders.  A  few  canoes  and  piroguas  were 
anchored  in  the  little  port. 

Nixon  had  reserved  his  whole  moral  force  for  one  last 
appeal  to  the  repentant  Felipe.  For  the  "  flesh-pots" 
were  now  only  a  memory,  and  the  boy's  aching  head 
and  emptied  pockets  left  him  at  last  powerless  in  Doctor 
Jim's  hands.  He  hung  his  head  sheepishly  as  his 
mentor  said  sharply:  "At  least  you  can  tell  me  where 
Hacienda  Romero  is  now  !  " 

"Half  a  league  up  that  road,"  the  boy  replied 
humbly,  pointing  to  a  wide  gap  in  the  dense,  tropical 
sea-line  forest  of  varied  fruit-bearing  trees. 

Nixon's  eyes  rested  on  a  rider  urging  a  pony  away  at 
full  gallop  in  the  glaring  sun;  then  he  noticed  a  few 
frowzy-looking  soldiers  lounging  about  the  little  rail 
road  and  telegraph  station.  The  impudent,  barefooted 
rascals  were  glowering  at  the  Yankee  "gringo." 
Their  linen  raiment  was  half  ragged,  but  a  belt  with 
revolver  and  saber  bayonet,  two  heavy  cartridge 
pouches  and  the  gleaming  brown  rifles  showed  them 
effective  for  butchery,  as  they  leered  at  the  doctor 
with  the  fierce,  cowardly  brutality  of  their  kind,  their 
fingers  itching  to  try  the  oiled  trigger  on  the  American. 

"Are  there  always  soldiers  about  here  ?"  questioned 
Nixon,  vaguely  uneasy. 

"  Yes, "said  Felipe.  "The  Guardia  Civile,  and  they 
are  a  rough  lot.  Regular  throat-cutters!" 

"Do  you  know  if  there  is  any  kind  of  a  hotel  at 
Jibacoa  village  ? " 


HIS    CUBAN    SWEETHEART.  83 

"I'll  go  up  and  see,"  answered  Felipe.  In  a  few 
moments  he  returned.  "An  old  Frenchman  has  a 
little  tavern  there,"  he  said. 

"Let  us  get  in  there  under  cover  at  once,"  cried 
Nixon.  As  he  followed  the  ox  team  on  foot,  he  turned 
his  head  and  noted  the  soldiers  in  gathered  clusters 
eyeing  them  curiously. 

' '  I  have  got  to  be  somebody  in  particular  down  here, " 
mused  the  American,  who  was  careful  to  have  no 
compromising  baggage.  "Henry  Morgan,  a  wander 
ing  Yankee  traveler,  a  magazine  writer,  artist  and 
photographer.  Yes,  that  will  do!  They  cannot  object 
to  my  presence.  As  for  Felipe,  his  face  explains  his 
character — young  Spaniard  of  large  leisure  and  no 
special  aim  in  life,  Senor  Antonio  Herrera.  But  how 
shall  I  ever  get  any  common  sense  into  the  lad's 
head." 

Two  hours  later  there  was  a  returning  entente  cordiale 
between  the  American  and  the  exile.  A  dip  in  the 
cove,  a  fair  meal,  a  couple  of  ponies  brought  up,  and 
with  a  bundle  of  cigars  and  notebook,  James  Nixon 
was  ready  for  a  first  reconnoitory  trip.  The  old 
French  boniface — a  sailor  cook  cast  ashore — offered 
boats,  fishing  and  several  amusements  to  delay  his 
patrons.  A  few  jack  tars  now  and  then  made  the 
lonely  inn  their  haunt,  and  smuggling  seemed  to  be 
the  veiled  occupation  of  the  alert,  cunning  beach 
combers  of  the  shore.  For  Key  West  was  conveniently 
near,  and  the  Cuban  cigars  trebled  their  value  in  a 
twenty  hours'  run. 

The  doctor  took  the  lad  out  on  a  jutting  crag  by 
the  soft  lapping  waves  of  the  blue  sea.  "Let  us 
begin  again,  Felipe,"  he  said  soberly  and  kindly. 
"You  are  young  and  very  thoughtless.  Help  me  out 
in  this  journey  and  I  will  take  you  back  to  Havana 
and  give  you  a  charming  cruise  on  an  American  man- 
of-war.  I  can  make  it  pleasant  for  you  in  New  York 
too.  Only  be  silent,  wise  and  watchful  here.  Will 
you  be  ruled  by  me  for  a  little  time  ? " 

"  Yes  !  "  said  the  boy,  a  gleam  of  his  better  nature 
lighting  up  his  face.  "  I  was  wrong.  But  the  young 
officers  asked  me  out  for  a  lark  !  And  it  was  Cuba — • 


84  HIS    CUBAN    SWEETHEART. 

my  own  country.  But  tell  me  now,  what  are  we  here 
for  ?  "  He  was  eager;  the  spirit  of  his  race  shone  in 
his  eyes. 

"  When  we  are  at  Hacienda  Romero,  I  will  tell  you 
on  my  word  of  honor.  Your  hand,  compaiiero  !  Off 
we  go  !  " 

"You  are  to  let  me  know  who  I  am  or  where  we 
came  from  !  " 

"  We  are  only  travelers  and  going  to  Matanzas,  then 
back  to  Havana."  With  this  Nixon  mentioned  the 
names  and  occupations  he  had  devised  for  them,  as  they 
ambled  along  at  the  lazy,  shagging  gait  of  the  Cuban 
pony. 

They  made  a  wide  detour  which  left  the  railroad 
station  at  some  distance.  Then  they  rode  into  the 
avenue  where  cocoa  and  palm,  pineapple  and  orange 
tree  were  tangled  with  climbing  vines  of  tropical 
profusion.  The  mango  groves  swept  down  to  the  very 
sea,  the  bananas  in  great  green  clusters  high  above 
them. 

The  air  was  still,  and  the  sunlight  poured  in  a  tor 
rent  through  the  broken  shade,  where  the  discordant 
screams  of  parrots  and  the  chatter  of  monkeys 
announced  their  coming.  Through  bits  of  rich  prairie 
savannah  they  caught  glimpses  of  rolling  wooded  hills, 
rising  back  to  the  serrated  blue  mountains  where  for 
ten  long  years  the  Cuban  rebels  held  the  interior  of  the 
island  against  an  army  double  the  hosts  which  Wash 
ington  ever  saw  embattled  in  fight.  At  the  end  of  his 
journey,  his  heart  beating  in  oppressed  loneliness,  Nixon 
suddenly  remembered  that  he  was  destitute  of  all 
mechanical  appliances  for  the  work  before  him. 

"  It  is,  after  all,  a  simple  thing,"  mused  the  young 
American.  "A  lonely  old  man  ridden  by  his  night 
mare  memories  would  not  make  confidants  of  servants. 
The  papers  may  be  such  that,  if  found  singly,  they 
would  benefit  no  one.  A  little  aid  from  lever  or  shovel, 
a  pick  or  any  old  gardener's  tools  may  help  me.  Even 
an  axe  and  spade  may  release  the  deposit." 

An  hour  after  they  had  entered  the  beach  line  tropic 
forest,  Felipe  led  his  companion  out  over  a  rolling  ride 
down  into  a  beautiful  glen  where  a  crystal  stream  wan- 


HIS    CUBAN    SWEETHEART.  85 

dered.  The  ponies  eagerly  drank  of  the  sparkling 
waters,  as  the  Cuban  said  quietly:  "We  will  be  there 
in  a  few  minutes.  Shall  we  go  right  to  the  hacienda  ?  " 

"  Let  us  ride  up  and  take  a  look,"  answered  Nixon. 

Then  from  the  higher  knoll  the  boy  pointed  down 
to  a  mass  of  irregular  buildings,  headed  by  a  square- 
towered  chapel,  indicating  his  birthplace,  his  own  for 
feited  heritage. 

"There  is  the  house!"  he  said  simply.  "The 
rancho  is  ten  leagues  square,  and  in  old  times  was  the 
first  place  on  the  north  coast." 

The  wearied  horses  dropped  their  necks  gladly  as 
the  travelers  drew  up  in  a  clump  of  trees  from  which 
the  whole  front  of  the  hacienda  could  be  seen.  A 
great  irregular  white  mansion,  in  a  lonely  park  over 
grown  with  tropic  growth,  lay  below  them,  the  tiled 
roofs  gleaming  red  in  the  afternoon  sun.  A  stone  wall 
surrounded  the  building,  which  was  of  several  stories 
with  a  clustered  mass  of  single  story  adjuncts,  suited 
to  the  former  state  of  a  "great  family.'  A  hundred 
paces  from  the  house  the  chapel  showed  its  square  bell 
tower  with  a  pyramidal  tiled  roof  above  the  rank  trees 
of  the  abandoned  gardens.  Beyond  were  a  few  strag 
gling  adobe  huts,  a  clump  of  thatched  sheds  and  a 
series  of  abandoned  slave  baracoons. 

"  Shall  I  go  down  to  the  house  ?  "  demanded  Felipe. 

"No,  my  boy,  let  us  ride  over  to  the  church.  I 
see  that  the  great  door  is  open.  And  anyone  is  free 
to  enter  the  house  of  God.  Remember,  now,  no  one 
knows  who  we  really  are." 

As  they  rode  up  to  the  lonely  chapel  the  American 
saw  two  or  three  dark  forms  flitting  around  the  old 
servants'  quarters.  A  few  hungry-looking  pigs  roamed 
vaguely  around  and  soon  a  half  dozen  energetic  dogs 
vociferously  raised  an  alarm. 

"Stay  here  with  the  horses  a  moment,  Felipe,"  said 
Nixon,  and  he  sprang  off,  walking  briskly  over  to  the 
deserted  church.  There  was  no  sign  of  life  as  he  stood 
under  the  great  arched  door  of  the  main  facade.  A 
single  round  window  gave  light  to  the  eastern  front,  a 
low  square  tower  at  one  corner  was  flanked  by  the 
tall  belfry  at  the  other.  A  great  crucifix  fifty  feet 


86  HIS   CUBAN    SWEETHEART. 

iii  height  was  planted  on  a  stone  pedestal  of  four 
tiers  before  the  entrance,  and  a  fantastically  carved 
wooden  image  hung  weather  beaten  upon  the  molder- 
ing  beams  of  the  cross.  Stone  images  of  the  apostles 
in  niches  with  faded  gilt  aureoles  were  tottering  upon 
the  walls,  rent  and  split  by  the  earthquake. 

A  hundred  feet  in  depth  and  fifty  in  breadth,  the  in 
terior  of  the  chapel  was  only  a  confused  mass  of  wreck 
age;  ruined  side  altars  and  shrines,  the  religious 
furniture  and  time-stained  pictures  and  images,  all 
attesting  the  shattering  force  of  the  dreaded  tremblor. 

The  fierce  light  of  the  afternoon  streamed  in  through 
the  broken  side  windows  as  Nixon  hastened  to  pick  his 
way  around  the  high  altar. 

Upon  slabs  and  wall  tablets  lying  crushed  under 
his  foot,  the  American  could  still  read  the  reported 
virtues  of  the  Romeros  of  the  past.  The  foundation 
slabs  of  the  high  altar,  tilted  and  yawning  in  disorder, 
showed  the  spot  from  whence  Padre  Viciente  had 
unearthed  the  leaden  casket. 

The  American  woke  as  if  from  a  dream.  "  Nothing 
here,"  he  murmured,  and,  swiftly  retracing  his  steps, 
he  passed  over  the  holy  water  fonts  lying  prone  in  his 
path  and  stood  under  the  arched  doorway.  "This  is 
no  ' la  puerta  mayor,'"  he  said  in  unconscious  self- 
address.  "  Nothing  else  in  sight  but  the  two  sacristy 
doors.  Here  would  be  no  hiding-place." 

So  he  strode  swiftly  out.  At  a  few  paces  distant  a 
strong,  substantial  adobe  house,  square  and  roomy, 
was  evidently  the  padre's  domicile,  for  it  alone  bore 
signs  of  habitation,  save  the  faint  blue  smoke  curling 
up  from  the  scattered  village  of  the  peons. 

Nixon  turned  to  rejoin  his  waiting  companion.  "  It 
must  be  under  the  hacienda  entrance,"  the  explorer 
decided. 

As  he  thought  this,  the  door  of  the  priest's  house 
opened  slowly,  and  a  woman  standing  in  the  opening 
cried  out  suspiciously:  "  Quen  vive?" 

Nixon  quickly  turned  the  corner  of  the  church,  and, 
striding  back  to  Felipe,  said:  "  Go  down,  speak  to  that 
woman  and  tell  her  we  are  passing  travelers.  See  if 
you  cannot  get  her  to  prepare  a  meal.  For  we  must  rest 


HIS    CUBAN    SWEETHEART.  87 

and  bait  the  horses.  Be  in  a  hurry,  for  I  wish  to  get  a 
look  at  the  hacienda  itself  before  the  sun  goes  down." 

Nixon  turned  his  delighted  eyes  upon  the  superb 
beauty  of  the  splendid  landscape.  "The  old  Con- 
questa  knew  a  thing  or  two,"  he  murmured.  "And 
that  beautiful  stream  furnished  water  for  their  flocks 
and  herds." 

From  the  church  he  had  seen  the  rear  view  of  the 
hacienda,  with  its  feudal  adjuncts  of  corrals,  pasco, 
great  tiers  of  rooms  for  the  servants  and  other  retain 
ers,  and  also  the  vast  offices  suited  for  all  the  wants  of 
the  lord  of  a  single  tract  ten  leagues  square — now  an 
abandoned  paradise! 

"And  this  is  the  work  of  mad  Cuban  rebellion  and 
heartless  Spanish  brutality.  Cuba  lies  bound,  impov 
erished,  helpless  and  bleeding  under  the  misrule  of  the 
weakest  royal  line  in  Europe.  For  the  court  of  Madrid 
has  thrown  away  the  whole  New  World  in  four  cent 
uries.  " 

Felipe  came  bounding  back  with  a  smiling  face  and 
cried:  "  The  woman  is  civil  enough.  She  will  do  what 
we  wish.  Let  us  come  down  now  with  the  horses.  It  is  a 
good  chance.  All  the  guardians  are  away  at  a  big 
fiesta  at  Matanzas,  and  she  says  we  can  take  a  look  at 
the  old  hacienda  besides." 

As  the  doctor  sprang  on  his  horse  he  saw  four 
mounted  men  spur  out  of  the  wood  at  some  distance, 
their  arms  flashing  in  the  sun.  They  rode  up  behind 
the  hacienda,  nd  a  boy  standing  on  a  knoll  seemed 
to  be  beckoning  to  their  leader,a  single  horseman,  who 
galloped  out  to  him. 

"Again  these  prowling  soldiers,"  he  exclaimed. 
"They  seem  to  turn  up  like  Jack-in-the-box  every 
time." 

As  he  rode  up  to  the  padre's  door,  some  sudden 
presentiment  of  danger  flashed  on  Nixon's  mind,  for 
he  mechanically  said :  "Felipe!  Talk  to  me  in  Eng 
lish  only.  I  don't  want  anyone  here  to  know  that  I 
speak  Spanish.  If  the  woman  asks  what  I  am,  tell  her 
that  I  am  the  Yankee  artist  and  photographer." 

The  young  fellow  nodded. 

"  Does  she  know  you,  this  woman  ? " 


88  HIS   CUBAN    SWEETHEART. 

"  No,  I  think  not,  and  yet  it  seems  to  me  that  I 
remember  her  faintly."  The  boy's  answer  was  care 
less  and  indifferent. 

"Ask  her  if  we  can  go  over  and  see  the  hacienda 
while  she  prepares  our  meal,"  earnestly  whispered 
Nixon.  "Once  over  there  I  will  tell  you  for  what 
we  came  here." 

The  boy's  eyes  sparkled  with  sudden  excitement  as 
he  cheerfully  cried:  "All  right." 

Nixon  was  conscious  that  the  woman  was  eyeing  him 
keenly  as  she  stood  in  the  rear  door  and  lazily  called 
to  a  "mozo,"  who  slouched  up  and  then  led  the  horses 
away  after  carefully  depositing  the  saddles,  bridles  and 
blankets  on  the  tiled  floor  of  the  rear  veranda. 

The  woman  listlessly  said  to  Felipe:  "  You  will  find 
the  whole  inner  line  of  the  hacienda  open.  The  men 
all  sleep  there.  Only  the  front  doors  are  barred.  Go 
in  at  any  of  the  back  entrances.  There's  nothing  to 
see.  Empty  rooms!  Los  soldados  have  carried  off  all 
the  little  things." 

"  That's  just  what  I  want.  Be  quick,  Felipe. 
Let  us  take  a  turn  around  the  priest's  house  and  then 
quietly  get  over  the  park  into  the  hacienda." 

The  housekeeper  had  opened  the  doors  of  the  padre's 
bungalow  with  the  mechanical  hospitality  of  the  Latin 
American  races.  A  sullen  pride  rather  than  good  will 
was  manifested  in  her  indolent  motions. 

"Quite  a  well-kept  household!  "  remarked  Nixon  as 
they  wandered  along  through  the  spacious  rooms  of 
the  substantial  masonry  one-story  house.  Its  heavy 
mahogany  beams,  its  four  foot  walls,  double  shut 
tered  windows  and  cool  brick  floor,  spoke  of  the 
practical  sense  of  the  vanished  builder.  The  double 
roof  of  great  semi-cylindrical  red  tiles  was  proof  against 
both  heat  and  tropical  storms.  The  splendid  old-time 
darkened  furniture  in  rich  heart  mahogany  was  evidently 
part  of  the  hacienda  property  saved  from  Paul  to  fall 
into  the  oily  clutch  of  Peter.  The  rooms  were  fur 
nished  with  iron  and  brass  beds  of  tropical  lightness, 
where  great  drooping  lace  curtains  gave  an  interior 
vantage  ground  wherein  to  fight  the  mosquitoes. 

It  was  evident   that    the   padre   was  not  averse  to 


HIS    CUBAN    SWEETHEART.  89 

hospitality  and  good  cheer,  as  the  huge  dining  table 
proved;  for  a  delegation  of  the  Table  Round  could 
be  placed  about  it  in  stately  ease.  A  carven  sideboard 
showed  the  quaint  pottery  of  the  tropics  with  silver 
flagons  and  table  furniture  of  ancient  design. 

Cool,  spacious,  and  well  furnished,  the  padre's  home 
was  on  a  scale  which  enabled  him  to  set  forth  good  cheer 
and  give  the  ample  room  needed  in  the  sultry  land  to 
all  the  passing  officials.  The  great  ollas  hanging  in 
their  corded  network,  the  store  of  tropic  fruits  at  hand, 
and  the  evident  comfortable  provision  showed  that 
there  was  a  well  ordered  system  in  the  menage. 

"I  will  warrant,  with  turtle,  fish  and  oysters,  the 
spoil  of  field  and  forest,  the  remains  of  flocks  and 
herds  and  the  offerings  of  the  faithful,  that  Padre 
Guerra  lives  like  a  fighting  cock  here  in  the  shadows 
of  the  past;  "  thought  the  American. 

It  was  literally  true.  For  several  specimens  of  the 
very  finest  black  Spanish  cocks  were  tethered  by 
leather  strings  to  the  table  legs  in  the  various  rooms, 
so  as  to  judiciously  prevent  a  battle  royal. 

A  furtive  glance  at  the  woman  who  watched  them 
with  an  ugly  glint  in  her  luminous  dark  eyes  and 
Nixon  leisurely  moved  out  of  the  door. 

She  stood,  her  gleaming  brown  arms  poised  on  her  hips, 
and  leaned  in  unconscious  grace  against  the  masonry  of 
the  front  entrance.  Her  dark  hair  streamed  down  over 
the  dazzling  whiteness  of  her  light  muslin  gown ;  golden 
earringb  of  quaint  design,  with  a  beaded,  cross  bearing 
necklace  of  West  Indian  gold,  lit  up  her  simple  dress. 
The  tropical  richness  of  her  splendid  form  showed  all 
the  ripeness  of  life  at  twenty-four,  as  an  easy,  self- 
conscious,  half-insolent  smile  played  on  her  lips  now 
parted  to  show  the  pearly  teeth  which  a  belle  might  envy. 

"Rather  a  prepossessing  Dorcas,"  mused  Nixon, 
"  and  yet  there  is  a  suggestion  of  infinite  deviltry  in 
her  cat-like  stride  and  easy  grace.  I  will  not  bother 
the  coffee-colored  queen  very  long,  for  if  I  have  aught 
to  do  here  it  can  be  achieved  to-night  or  in  another  visit. 
Yet  how  shall  I  have  access  again  when  the  guardians 
return  from  their  fandango  and  monte  at  Matanzas? 
Some  of  the  older  people  might  recognize  Felipe." 


90  HIS   CUBAN    SWEETHEART. 

The  sun  was  yet  an  hour  high  as  they  wandered 
through  the  beautiful  grounds.  Knee  deep  was  the 
rank  foliage  of  the  tropics.  "Let  us  get  on  as  soon 
as  we  can!"  cried  Felipe.  Nixon  quickened  his  pace 
and  they  passed  through  a  ruined  wall,  whose  heavy 
iron  gate  lay  in  two  broken  leaves  under  their  feet,  to 
the  arched  masonry  passage  which  formed  the  rear  of 
the  mansion.  Strong  twisted  gratings  of  hammered 
iron  protected  all  the  casements,  and  the  doors, 
thickly  studded  with  metal  knobs,  were  proof  against 
aught  but  the  sapper  and  the  miner.  Towers  on  the 
roof  carried  up  to  hold  two  or  three  musketeers  were 
loopholed  with  judgment  and  thrown  out  so  as  to  easily 
flank  the  paseo.  At  the  angles  of  the  yard  were 
huge  cisterns,  where  the  rain  water  would  furnish  a 
supply  to  a  beleaguered  garrison. 

"  This  is  a  fortress,  not  a  mansion,  Felipe,"  said  the 
American  in  wonder,  as  they  passed  into  a  great  hall 
leading  to  the  puerta  mayor  of  the  old  stronghold  of 
the  Romeros. 

"Yes,  "said  the  lad,  "Los  Olmos  was  often  attacked 
by  freebooters,  by  the  hill  Indians,  and  there  were  also 
risings  of  the  slaves  here,  when  blood  flowed  freely. 
Juan  has  told  me  a  lot  of  the  old  stories  he  got  from 
the  padre." 

Their  feet  sounded  hollow  on  the  boarded  floors  of 
mahogany  plank,  and  the  American  hastened  to  light 
a  dark  lantern  which  he  had  hidden  away  in  his  shoot 
ing  coat. 

The  boy  ran  through  several  of  the  vast  lonely 
rooms  whose  front  windows  were  all  barred  with 
double  solid  shutters.  "I  can  easily  break  one  open," 
he  carelessly  said.  "There  are  tools  at  the  hall 
door." 

"Touch  nothing, "  cried   Nixon. 

He  stood  in  the  principal  entrance  of  the  silent  house, 
gazing  eagerly  at  the  huge  double  door  with  its  anti 
quated  fastenings.  The  straggling  light  through  the 
rear  windows  showed  him  a  broad  sill  of  stone  against 
which  the  doors  were  closed. 

"I  have  found  a  window  unbarred  here,"  cried 
Felipe,  as  he  threw  open  a  double  sash,  strongly 


HIS    CUBAN    SWEETHEART.  9! 

hooked  from  the  inside.  Nixon  was  at  his  side  in  a 
moment.  Leaping  through  the  window  out  into  the 
tangled  vines  he  sprang  along  the  front  of  the  house 
to  the  huge  arched  entrance.  It  was  paved  with  cob 
bles  to  the  very  sill. 

Casting  his  eye  along  the  great  facade,  Nixon  with  a 
beating  heart  satisfied  himself  at  once,  by  a  glance, 
there  was  no  suitable  place  of  concealment  for  the 
document  he  sought  for  on  the  exterior. 

The  long  gleaming  spires  of  light  trembled  now  in 
the  palm  tops.  "  I  must  hasten,"  the  American 
decided;  he  then  quickly  clambered  within  the  open 
ing  of  the  window.  A  glance  showed  him  the  broad 
savannah  and  the  sleeping  forest,  silent,  tranquil  and 
lonely.  "A  ghostly  place,  a  ghostly  past,  a  ghostly 
present,"  he  mused.  But  his  sense  of  present  respon 
sibility  at  once  returned  as  he  swung  the  sashes  together 
and  rehooked  the  rusted  windows. 

"That  door  could  not  be  opened  without  a  dozen 
men's  labor,"  he  decided,  "and  there  is  nothing  on 
the  outside."  On  his  knees  behind  the  great  barriers 
he  flashed  his  lantern  over  the  stonework  beneath  his 
feet.  "  Ah  !  "  he  gasped. 

Felipe  stood  at  his  side  in  astonishment.  He  was  at 
last  startled  into  a  lazy  curiosity. 

"  Have  you  lost  anything  ?     What  is  the  matter  ?  " 

But  Doctor  Jim  was  carefully  studying  the  arrange 
ment  of  the  flooring.  There  were  three  broad  stones 
paving  the  half  width  of  the  door  opening  which  was 
left  behind  the  folded  leaves  of  the  great  gateway. 
The  ones  adjoining  the  wall  were  evidently  carried 
under  the  masonry  and  tied  down  with  tons  of  the 
heavy  coral  rock  which  made  the  main  walls  of  the 
hacienda  impervious  to  the  attacks  of  an  old-style  six- 
pounder.  But  in  the  middle  there  was  a  slab  which 
was  capable  of  easy  displacement,  its  seams  being 
closed  with  cement. 

The  young  man  gazed  at  it  with  curiosity  and  then 
keenly  examined  its  every  corner  and  line. 

"It  must  be — .  Yes!  It  is  here,"  he  said, 
buoyant  hope  and  solemn  awe  mingled  in  his  manner. 
Then  rising  he  took  Felipe  by  the  hand.  "  My  boy, "  he 


92  HIS    CUBAN    SWEETHEART. 

gravely  whispered,  "  I  have  come  to  this  place  for  your 
sister's  sake.  Even  your  father  does  not  know  why. 
The  priest  and  Juan  must  never  know.  No  one  but 
you  and  I.  There  is  something  buried  under  this 
stone  which  is  of  the  utmost  value  to  your  family. 
Now  if  we  can  get  this  loosened  and  back  into  its  posi 
tion  before  the  guardians  return  we  shall  have  both  done 
our  duty.  If  we  cannot,  then  we  must  leave  it  so  that  no 
one  can  tell  of  our  attempt.  You  said  there  were  some 
old  tools — where  are  they  ?  " 

Together  the  two  young  men  examined  the  pile  of 
picks,  bars,  axes,  and  old  implements  in  the  new 
gallery  at  the  coping  of  one  of  the  great  underground 
water  cisterns. 

"I  think  I  could  do  it  with  your  help  in  an   hour," 
murmured  Nixon,  "but  the  woman  maybe  suspicious; 
we  must  go  back  and  eat." 
"  Yes,  we  must  go  back." 

"Now,  Felipe,  you  must  find  out  when  the  guardians 
will  return.  You  had  better  go  on  in  advance  and 
carelessly  question  the  woman.  I  will  saunter  about 
by  the  main  wall  and  join  you  as  if  only  looking 
around." 

The  boy  moved  away  in  a  stupor  of  surprise.  "I 
wonder  if  it  is  the  sun!  Has  he  gone  crazy  ?  Can  it 
be  that  he  will  have  the  fever  ?  "  Felipe  muttered ;  yet 
he  obeyed  the  man  whose  cool  energy  had  at  last 
impressed  him  as  worthy  of  respect. 

4 '  Let  me  see, "  mused  Nixon,  as  he  sauntered  through 
the  tropical  park,  "an  hour  to  eat  our  meal, 
a  smoke  and  a  look  at  the  animals.  Then  it  will  be 
dark.  It  will  give  us  an  excuse  to  light  candles  in 
order  to  finish  our  look  at  the  old  house.  In  two 
hours  I  can  have  that  stone  out  and  back  in  its  place. 
But  the  noise — and  if  the  guardians  should  return!  " 

The  young  doctor  was  carefully  weighing  all  the 
chances.  "I  could  give  no  explanation,"  he  thought, 
as  he  pushed  into  a  tangle  of  vines  hiding  the  view  of 
the  padre's  house.  Then  he  suddenly  sprang  back,  jerk 
ing  out  his  revolver  as  a  dark  form  leaped  out  almost 
under  his  very  feet  and  fled  away  among  the  tangled 
bananas  and  palms. 


HIS    CUBAN    SWEETHEART.  .  93 

"  What  the  devil !  "  he  growled,  in  an  angry  surprise, 
and  yet  standing  there,  open-eyed,  was  ashamed  of  his 
first  idea.  "Only  some  peon  lad,  curious  to  see  the 
strangers!  " 

Here  an  opening  showed  him  Felipe  standing  expedt- 
ant  at  the  door  of  the  house. 

When  Nixon  re-entered  the  great  waiting  room  he 
said  anxiously  in  English:  "Did  you  see  any  one  on 
our  path  as  you  came  back  ?  " 

"Oh,  no,"  good  humoredly  replied  the  young  man, 
with  an  easy  laugh.  "  It's  all  right,  anyway.  She 
knows  who  I  am.  And  you  can  do  what  you  want  to. 
I  told  her  I  might  take  a  notion  to  sleep  in  the  old 
hacienda,  and  the  men  won't  come  home  till  daylight." 

Nixon  smothered  an  expression  of  alarm.  "  Let  us 
finish  up  our  meal,  then,  and  get  to  work,  Felipe.  If 
I  find  what  I  hope  for,  I  want  to  ride  back  to  Jibacao 
to-night.  If  there  is  any  mistake  we  will  be  out  of  the 
way  before  the  men  are  here." 

"  To  the  devil  with  the  men!"  said  the  boy,  as  he 
applied  himself  to  the  chickens,  eggs,  tortillas  and  fi- 
yoles  of  the  hasty  meal.  ' '  I  should  like  to  stay  here  fora 
little  while !  I  could  take  a  look  over  the  old  fort  myself, 
and  you  could  go  back  to  America.  I  wish  you  would 
leave  me  a  little  money  and  let  me  stay  here  a  little 
while.  I've  nothing  in  God's  world  to  do  in  New  York, 
you  know." 

"Felipe,"  said  Nixon,  earnestly,  "don't  think  of  it 
a  moment.  It  surely  would  get  me  into  trouble  with 
your  father  and  the  padre,  and  remember  your  prom 
ise.  No  one  to  know  !  They  would  find  out  at  once. 
If  anything  happened  to  you  here,  your  sister  would 
hold  me  responsible." 

"Let  us  at  least  see  what  turns  up,"  said  the  boy 
lightly.  "  If  we  have  good  luck  I  may  get  the  padre 
to  bring  me  back  here  with  Juan  to  stay  awhile." 

"Yes,  that  is  better  !  Anything  is  better  than  to 
leave  you  here  alone,"  replied  the  relieved  American. 
The  two  young  men  finished  their  meal  and  sauntered 
over  to  the  horses  snugly  ensconced  in  the  padre's  yard 
near  to  the  sober,  sleek-looking  mules,  which  drew  the 
priest's  easy  ambulance. 


94  HIS    CUBAN    SWEETHEART. 

"  How  did  she  recognize  you  ?  "  asked  Nixon,  curi 
ously,  as  they  strolled  back  to  the  house. 

"I  suppose  by  the  family  face,"  laughed  Felipe, 
"for  she  said  flatly:  'You  can  do  what  you  wish  to 
here.  I  know  that  you  are  Felipe  Romero. '  I  could 
not  deny  it.  She  was  raised  on  the  place;  I  may  have 
played  with  her  as  a  child.  She  is  not  so  bad  looking," 
added  the  boy,  who  was  now  restored  to  his  nerve  tone 
after  the  little  flurry  of  dissipation. 

"  Let  us  hasten  to  the  work,  then,"  eagerly  answered 
Nixon,  "  lest  some  of  these  Matanzas  revelers  return." 

So  they  moved  along  slowly  to  the  heap  of  .tools  by 
the  cistern.  Selecting  several  implements  suited  to  his 
work,  Felipe  bore  them  into  the  great  hall  leading  to 
the  front  door.  To  the  doctor's  delight  there  was  no 
trouble  in  closing  the  rear  shutters  so  as  to  prevent  the 
light  shining  out  into  the  darkness,  to  give  any  warn 
ing  of  their  presence. 

"The  front  door  is  tight  enough;  there  will  be  no 
trouble  there,"  thought  the  American  as  he  knelt  down 
in  the  stillness  of  the  early  evening  to  examine  the 
joints  of  the  middle  slab,  under  which  he  hoped  to  find 
the  object  of  his  search. 

With  his  heavy  knife  he  tried  the  old  mortar. 
"If  it  is  anything  like  Roman  cement,  I  might  work 
all  night  in  vain,  and  have  to  split  the  stone  with 
powder,  or  drill  it.  That  would  be  out  of  the  question, 
and  this  lucky  chance  might  be  lost  forever." 

To  his  irrepressible  joy,  the  old  mortar  was  soft  and 
rotten,  evidently  the  work  of  the  sea  breeze  and  moist 
ure  in  the  olden  days.  He  began  cleaning  the  joints, 
then  turned  his  head  to  set  Felipe  to  work  to  aid 
him.  "That  knife  of  his  will  come  in  play  here," 
decided  the  American. 

A  distant  gleam  of  light  flitting  in  and  out  of  the 
vacant  rooms  showed  where  the  boy  was  wandering. 
Leaving  his  own  dark  lantern  on  the  slab,  Nixon  fol 
lowed  Felipe,  his  own  footsteps  sounding  hollow  in  the 
ghostly  silence  of  the  deserted  hacienda.  Turning  from 
one  passage  to  another,  the  doctor  saw  Felipe  standing 
near  him  in  a  doorway,  his  form  shadowed  against  the 
doorway. 


HIS    CUBAN    SWEETHEART.  95 

"  Come  here  and  help  me,"  he  said  earnestly. 

As  he  spoke  the  figure  seemed  to  vanish :  then 
Felipe,  light  in  hand,  entered  the  other  end  of  the  passage. 

Nixon  started  in  alarm.  "Did  you  see  any  one? 
Where  did  you  come  from  ?  "  he  whispered. 

"  I  have  been  in  here  all  the  while,"  said  the  boy, 
dreamily,  "  for  I  have  found  my  old  chamber.  And  I 
remember  my  mother's  room,  too." 

"Can  this  old  den  be  haunted?"  the  American 
thought  rapidly,  as  he  returned  to  his  work. 

There  was  no  sound  as  they  stood  listening.  Nixon 
forgot  that  bare  feet  are  noiseless. 

"Don't  leave  me  now,"  he  said.  "When  we  get  all 
the  seams  clear,  I  think  we  are  strong  enough  to  pry 
up  the  stone.  If  we  can  lift  up  one  edge,  we  may  roll 
it  off,  balancing  it  on  one  of  these  bars  as  a  roller." 

The  two  athletic  young  fellows  toiled  eagerly 
for  half  an  hour.  Finally,  after  splintering  a  corner 
off  the  gray  slab,  and  prying  up,  their  bars  together, 
they  raised  the  stone  out  of  its  bed  and  lifted  one  edge 
of  its  four-foot  length  over  the  nearest  slab. 

"  We  must  take  these  tools  all  back  where  we  found 
them,  Felipe,"  remarked  the  excited  American,  as  he 
arranged  a  roller  deftly  so  that  they  could  return  the 
stone  to  its  place  after  digging  beneath  it.  "Did 
you  bring  one  of  the  spades?"  he  whispered, 
for  in  the  silence  of  the  tropical  night,  with  only  the 
shrill  cicadas  breaking  the  hush,  his  voice  sounded 
strange  and  unfamiliar. 

"Yes,  two  of  them,"  laughed  the  boy.  "I  don't 
like  this  hard  work." 

Rising,  they  resolutely  heaved  till  the  slab  was  lifted 
up,  rolled  away,  and  left  a  bare  surface  of  sandy  soil 
below  it.  Grasping  a  spade  Nixon  muttered  ener 
getically:  "Dig  down — here  in  the  middle — hurry!" 

"It's  too  much  like  digging  one's  own  grave," 
grumbled  Felip*e  as  he  bent  over  the  unfamiliar  tool  of 
Adam.  But  with  straining  muscles  the  young  Ameri 
can  was  silently  throwing  up  great  spadefuls  of  the 
yielding  soil.  He  shuddered  in  a  nervous  tremor  as 
the  blade  of  his  spade  at  last  struck  an  object  harder 
than  the  sandy  soil  loosely  thrown  in.  In  a  few  mo- 


96  HIS    CUBAN    SWEETHEART. 

ments  he  had  uncovered  a  small  leaden  chest  similar 
to  the  packet  brought  by  the  padre. 

"  Quick  now,  my  boy!  For  your  life!"  whispered 
Nixon,  as  he  lifted  the  case  aside.  It  seemed  in  fair 
condition,  for  there  was  very  little  moisture  in  the  soil. 
Then  he  worked  on  like  lightning,  refilling  the  chasm 
and  trampling  the  earth  in  with  his  feet. 

"We  must  get  back  to  Jibacoa  as  soon  as  the  horses 
can  carry  us." 

"  Is  it  the  thing  you  came  here  for  ?  "  asked  the  lad, 
as  they  sprang  to  the  stone  and  rolled  it  back  to  its  place. 

"  Never  mind  the  joints.  Let  us  get  away,"  cried 
Nixon.  "Pick  up  the  tools."  With  the  box  under 
his  arm  he  strode  along,  an  implement  in  each  hand. 

They  neared  the  coping  of  the  cistern  whence  the 
tools  had  been  taken.  Nixon  dropped  the  implements. 

Then  they  turned  to  go  back  for  the  lantern  and 
the  remaining  utensils,  but  a  dozen  dark  forms  darted 
out  of  the  shrubbery,  crying:  "  Halto!"  and  the  fore 
most  grappled  with  Felipe. 

By  a  sudden  inspiration  Nixon  dropped  the  precious 
box  quietly  into  the  cistern,  and  extending  his  arms, 
cried:  "  Yo  soy  Americanos !  "  as  the  click  of  hammers 
told  of  armed  men  making  ready  to  fire. 

Suddenly  there  was  a  yell  of  pain  as  Felipe's  knife 
flashed  in  the  starlight;  next  the  sound  of  a  crashing 
blow  as  a  carbine  butt  felled  the  unfortunate  heir  of  the 
Romero  curse. 

Nixon  was  grasped  by  a  half  dozen  sinewy  arms  and 
quickly  dragged  along  the  portico  to  where  a  man 
stood  now,  lighting  the  rear  doorway  with  the  dark 
lantern  used  in  the  work.  Groans  of  pain  followed  the 
American  and  he  twisted  his  head  around  to  see  Felipe 
lying  senseless  by  the  side  of  the  man  he  had  stabbed. 

The  light  flashing  in  Nixon's  face  blinded  him.  A 
Cuban  officer  of  the  coast  guard  stood  glowering  there, 
cocked  revolver  in  hand.  His  harsh  voice  rang  out: 
"It's  not  he;  it's  the  other  fellow  I  want — the 
Cuban." 

"He's  safe  enough,"  growled  an  old  sergeant. 
"We'll  have  to  carry  him  or  get  a  wagon.  He  is  laid 
out;  for  he  stabbed  Moreno  deep  in  the  chest." 


HIS   CUBAN    SWEETHEART.  97 

"Who  are  you?"  fiercely  demanded  the  officer,  as 
Doctor  Jim  winced  under  a  couple  of  turns  of  a  riata 
pinning  his  wrists  until  they  were  crushed  as  in  a  vise. 

"lam  an  American  traveler,"  answered  Nixon  in 
Spanish.  "A  peaceful  tourist;  and  this  outrage  is 
a  brutal  one.  I  demand  my  liberty,  and  my  friend's 
too." 

' '  What  do  you  here?  Search  him !"  cried  the  officer. 
Menacing  the  doctor  with  his  revolver,  he  growled 
out:  "  Some  damned  filibustero !"  while  his  prisoner 
was  roughly  deprived  of  all  his  personal  articles. 

"Thank  God,  the  leaden  casket  is  in  the  cistern, 
and  they  may  not  find  it,"  thought  Nixon.  Then  he 
cried  to  his  captors,  "I  will  explain  to  the  proper 
authority." 

"Get  them  up  to  the  house!"  roughly  said  the 
officer.  "  You  had  better  take  a  cart  to  carry  that 
other  fellow  down  to  Matanzas.  The  Comandante 
there  will  make  you  talk,  damned  quick!  " 

The  soldiers  then  strode  along  to  where  the  band 
had  propped  up  their  wounded  comrade,  and  were 
eagerly  examining  his  hurt  while  a  squad  roughly 
shook  up  the  stunned  and  bleeding  Cuban  boy  as  they 
dragged  him  away. 

While  this  was  going  on  James  Nixon  was  uncere 
moniously  hustled  along  to  where  the  padre's  house 
keeper  was  slatternly  flirtatious,  as  the  officer  said 
most  familiarly:  "Manuela!  who  is  this  Gringo 
fellow  ? " 

"I  don't  know,  Senor  Capitan,"  she  answered,  as 
she  set  forth  the  ready  rum  bottle  and  a  box  of  cigars, 
"  But  the  boy  with  him  is  Felipe  Romero,  the  old  rebel 
Don's  only  son." 

"Old  Romero,  the  exile,  you  mean?"  cried  the 
Captain,  starting  up  in  ferocious  joy. 

"Yes!  the  old  General,"  answered  Manuela.  Then 
she  called  up  some  Indian  women  to  bring  food  for 
the  soldiers  pouring  in.  She  seemed  to  be  a  she-devil 
qeeen  now. 

"Well,  I  will  take  one  of  your  wagons  and  go  on  to 
Matanzas  with  him  to-night,"  growled  the  Captain, 
with  a  triumphant  leer.  Calling  the  sergeant  he  hastily 


98  HIS    CUBAN    SWEETHEART. 

ordered:  "Search  that  wounded  fellow  well.  The 
youngster!  Then  look  into  their  saddle  pockets  and 
all  their  other  traps.  Rest  the  men  for  an  hour  and 
get  something  to  eat  before  we  start  back.  Leave  two 
files  to  watch  over  this  Gringo.  Keep  him  separated 
from  the  other  fellow.  If  he  tries  to  speak  to  Romero 
till  we  get  to  Matanzas  shoot  him — that's  all.  Come, 
Manuela, "  he  leered,  and  the  two  passed  into  another 
room. 

In  the  pale  moonlight  of  the  midnight,  Nixon  on  a 
led  horse,  his  hands  tied  before  him,  was  hauled  away, 
a  heartsick  prisoner,  on  the  Matanzas  road.  The  com 
mand  moved  slowly  along,  the  half -drunken  soldiers 
singing  and  wildly  shouting:  "  Muertea  los  filibusteros!  " 
as  they  guarded  the  creaking  cart  where  Felipe  Romero 
lay  tightly  bound  on  a  truss  of  straw. 

Nixon  was  stupefied  with  suffering  and  fatigue. 
Even  hunger  and  thirst  oppressed  him  as  he  fearfully 
repeated  the  Cuban  lad's  gloomy  words:  "It's  like 
digging  one's  own  grave  !  " 

In  the  sickly  glare  of  a  tropic  daybreak  the  man  who 
had  found  the  packet  "  debajo  la  puerta  mayor"  was 
thrust  into  a  common  felon's  cell  at  Matanzas.  "The 
box  is  safe,  thank  Heaven!  "  he  murmured,  as  he  sank 
down  on  a  rude  pallet. 

It  was  high  noon  when  James  Nixon,  bruised  and 
fainting  with  thirst,  awoke  in  the  sultry  shades  of  the 
filthy  Matanzas  calaboose.  He  was  alone  in  a  square 
cell  with  a  little  grated  window,  and  as  he  struggled  to 
his  feet  he  eagerly  seized  npon  an  earthen  crock  of 
water  which  stood  in  a  corner. 

Rubbing  his  eyes,  it  seemed  all  a  hideous  dream. 
The  ghostly,  curse-haunted  halls  of  Hacienda  Romero; 
the  hurried  toil  of  the  evening  hours;  the  wild  mtlee, 
and  the  dragging  away  of  Felipe. 

"My  God!  where  is  the  poor  boy?  "he  murmured 
in  agony.  "  He  may  be  now  imprisoned  as  a  danger 
ous  felon,  for  he  struck  with  ready  knife.  The  box 
lying  in  the  depths  of  the  old  cistern  may  be  found 
again,  but  the  last  of  the  Romeros — Felipe !  what  of 
him  ?" 

Then   Nixon,  familiar  with   many   stones  of  heart- 


HIS    CUBAN    SWEETHEART.  99 

rending  Spanish  brutality,  shuddered  as  he  thought  of 
the  rash  boy's  position.  "  He  has  not  a  friend  in  the 
island.  I  must  face  the  Comandante  here.  I  will 
telegraph  at  once  to  the  Consul-General.  I  will 
demand  the  presence  of  our  Consul.  By  the  eternal! 
if  the  Kcarsarge  were  only  in  the  harbor,  Bradford 
could  soon  induce  the  Admiral  to  act." 

The  lonely  American  was  well-nigh  frantic.  In  des 
peration  he  beat  upon  the  iron  cell  door  with  the  heavy 
earthen  water  jug,  which  shattered  in  his  hands  at  last. 
As  the  jailer  came  clattering  down  the  corridor  a  cry 
rose  from  the  adjoining  cell:  " Los  soldados !  Los  sol- 
da  Jos  !  Algun  pobrecito  sera  pasado  por  las  armas  !  ' ' 

Springing  to  the  little  window  Nixon  saw  a  firing 
party  of  a  dozen,  with  trailed  arms,  swiftly  crossing 
the  interior  parade  grounds  of  the  cuartel.  The  sol 
diers  were  laughing  and  twisting  their  heads  around, 
snapping  their  gun-locks  in  a  merciless  bravado.  They 
leered  at  the  pale  face  watching  them  spell-bound. 
Their  jeers  and  jargon  were  borne  to  Nixon's  ears  as 
they  sped  swiftly  along  out  of  sight. 

"I  demand  to  see  the  Comandante !"  roared  the 
prisoner,  who  had  now  lost  all  self-control  in  his  pent-up 
wrath. 

"You'll  see  him  soon  enough.  Gringo,"  bluntly 
answered  the  jailer.  "  He  will  make  short  work  with 
the  filibusteros  Americanos.  Now,  you  keep  quiet,  or 
I'll  gag  and  double-iron  you.  This  is  a  poor  place  for 
filibusteros."  The  brutal  jailer  laughed  as  a  heavy 
explosion  re-echoed  down  the  yard,  and  wreaths  of 
thin  blue  smoke  floated  across  the  parade  ground. 

"There  goes  one  of  them  now.  You  maybe  the 
next.  Your  turn  will  come  soon  enough." 

The  scoundrel  went  jeeringly  away,  rattling  his  heavy 
keys. 


100  HIS    CUBAN    SWEETHEART. 

CHAPTER  VII. 

THE  KING  OF  EMERALDS. 

IT  was  three  o'clock  in  the  afternoon  when  a  guard 
arrived  to  escort  Nixon  before  the  dreaded  Coman- 
dante.  The  officer  in  command  was  the  same  who  had  so 
vigorously  flourished  his  cocked  revolver  in  the  face  of 
the  unarmed  prisoner  the  evening  before. 

The  doctor  was  a  man  of  peace,  but  he  eyed  this 
gentleman  truculently  and  growled:  "I  would  give  my 
hopes  of  future  lucrative  practice,  you  wretch,  to  have 
just  five  minutes  alone  with  you  on  equal  terms!  " 

Then  Nixon,  still  handcuffed,  was  jostled  around  by 
two  dirty  soldiers  to  a  place  reasonably  near  the  desk, 
where  Colonel  Dominguez  lolled  back  with  his  saber 
and  two  loaded  pistols  within  reach. 

A  half  dozen  officers  were  lounging  around  the  great 
room,  and  the  tatterdemalion  guard  stood  in  array 
near  the  door.  Their  ragged  appearance  brought 
no  smile  to  Nixon's  lips,  for  the  echoes  of  that  heavy 
discharge  still  lingered  in  his  ears. 

The  silence  was  broken  by  the  Comandante's  rough 
voice,  as  he  fixed  his  glaring  black  eyes  on  Nixon. 

"Who  are  you?  Your  name,  your  country,  your 
station  ?  "  the  soldier  demanded. 

The  American  returned  the  insolent  stare  and  replied 
defiantly:  "Send  for  the  American  Consul,  take  these 
irons  off,  and  I  will  answer.  Not  till  then  /" 

The  young  officers  all  sprang  up  at  the  bold  speech 
of  a  lonely  prisoner. 

"What  are  you  doing  here?"  the  Comandante 
continued,  with  no  regard  to  Nixon's  answer. 

A  secretary  scribbled  away  in  a  corner,  and  gloomily 
eyed  the  American  as  a  possible  victim  of  the  next 
official  target  practice.  The  tyrant  scowled  as  the 
prisoner  stood  mute. 

"Put  it  down  that  he  does  not  answer,"  he  shouted. 
After  a  dozen  more  inquiries  the  Colonel  leaned  back 


HIS    CUBAN    SWEETHEART.  IOI 

in  helpless  wrath  His  eye  rested  on  the  officer  who 
commanded  the  guard.  "  Did  you  arrest  this  man  ?  " 
he  wrathfully  cried. 

The  officer  saluted.  "I  found  him  breaking  into 
Hacienda  Romero  at  Jibacoa  with  another  filibustero." 

"  The  Cuban  who  was  shot  this  morning,  you 
mean  ?  "  was  the  Colonel's  rejoinder. 

The  officer  sprang  forward,  for  Nixon  staggered  and 
fell  prone  on  the  tiled  floor.  For  the  fatal  crash  of  the 
'guns  was  ringing  yet  in  his  ears,  whose  volley  made 
poor  lonely  Inez  in  truth  the  last  of  the  Romeros. 
Then  in  a  sickening  stupor  he  heard  the  Colonel  say 
carelessly:  "Did  you  arrest  anyone  else  lurking 
around  there  ?  " 

"Yes!  there  was  a  young  lad  who  seemed  to  have 
no  special  business  there,  but  we  searched  him  and  he 
had  no  papers  on  him  like  the  Cuban.  I  left  him  there 
with  the  Intendente,  whom  I  met  coming  back  from 
Mantanzas.  Manuela,  the  housekeeper  there,  had  a 
peon  guarding  him,  and  I  told  her  to  let  him  go  in 
three  days  if  you  did  not  send  for  him." 

"  No  papers  on  him,  you  say?  "  queried  the  watch 
ful  Colonel. 

"  Nothing,"  respectfully  answered  the  man. 

"Then  send  a  trooper  up  and  tell  them  to  let  him 
go  where  he  will,"  the  Comandante  ordered. 
"  Were  the  articles  found  on  the  fellow?"  demanded 
Dominguez. 

In  a  few  moments  Nixon  had  the  satisfaction  of 
seeing  the  Colonel  calmly  enjoying  his  cigar,  as  he 
curiously  turned  over  all  the  personal  articles  taken 
from  him  the  night  before. 

"  The  prisoner  had  no  papers  at  all?  Nothing  in  his 
saddle  or  small  baggage  ? "  sharply  continued  the 
official. 

"  Not  a  thing!  It  was  Manuela  who  found  theyf//- 
bustcro  papers  in  the  Cuban's  saddle  pockets  and 
brought  them  to  me.  This  fellow  let  the  other  do  all 
the  talking.  He  pretended  there  not  to  know  a  word 
of  Spanish,  which  he  speaks  well." 

"  Where  did  the  two  come  from  ?"  said  Dominguez. 

"They  came   from   Havana  and  lounged    about  a 


102  HIS    CUBAN    SWEETHEART. 

little  hotel  at  Jibacoa  Bay.  As  soon  as  I  had  your 
telegram  to  arrest  them  1  watched  them  from  the 
moment  they  left  the  railroad  train.  I  let  them  break 
into  the  old  Romero  place,  for  I  thought  they  would 
meet  more  of  the  gang  there.  But  it  seems  they  are 
only  robbers,  pecarones,  ladrones,  for  they  were  poking 
around  the  hacienda  to  find  something  of  value." 

Nixon  bowed  his  face  in  his  hands  to  conceal  the 
bitter  tears.  "Poor  Felipe!  Poor  slaughtered  boy! 
Betrayed !  And  by  whom?  " 

Then  the  fatal  imprudence  of  Felipe  at  Havana  re 
turned  to  the  doctor's  mind.  "Some  of  the  officers 
may  have  discovered  his  secret  while  tipsy,"  he  sadly 
mourned.  With  this  the  thought  came  to  him  of  the 
lonely  old  Don,  of  the  beautiful  sister,  now  alone  in 
the  world,  and  of  the  exposure  of  the  whole  voyage  to 
the  resentful  Padre  Viciente  Guerra.  "  How  can  I 
ever  answer  for  this  innocent  blood?"  he  groaned  as 
he  thought  of  the  boy  dying  alone  in  the  hands  of  the 
brutal  guards. 

"I  do  not  see  any  American  papers  here,"  said  the 
Colonel  finally,  as  he  gathered  up  all  Nixon's  posses 
sions  into  a  heap  before  him. 

The  boom  of  a  heavy  gun  suddenly  echoed  over  the 
bay  and  shook  the  rattling  casements.  It  was  follow 
ed  by  another,  and  another,  until  the  port  salute  had 
been  fired.  The  prisoner  sat  as  in  a  dream  while  an 
adjutant  hastily  entering  saluted  and  reported: 

"The  United  States  man-of-war  Kearsarge  is  enter 
ing  the  port,  flying  the  Admiral's  blue  peter!  " 

Colonel  Dominguez  started  as  Nixon  raised  his  head 
and  fixed  his  clear  dark  eye  upon  the  military  bully. 

"  I  must  go  and  make  my  official  visit, "  he  hastily 
exclaimed.  "  Captain,"  he  added,  "  let  the  American 
Consul  be  sent  for,  and  permit  him  to  see  this  fellow. 
Of  course,  if  the  Consul  should  demand  a  private  in 
terview  you  can  allow  it.  As  for  the  other  prisoner,  he 
was  a  Cuban  born,  and  the  rebel  Romero's  son.  He 
knew  when  he  brought  these  papers  that  he  took 
his  life  in  his  hand." 

The  whole  gang  of  satellites  sprang  wildly  up  as 
Nixon  in  a  ringing  voice  cried:  "  Liar!  The  boy  was 


HIS    CUBAN    SWEETHEART.  103 

innocent.  The  papers  were  stuffed  into  his  saddle  by 
your  own  dirty  spies !  " 

''  I'll  make  you  answer  for  that,  you  villain!  "  shouted 
Dominguez,  his  saber  half  drawn  as  he  sprang  forward. 

"Coward!  you  dare  not, "  answered  the  infuriated 
Xixon.  ''The  Kearsarge  is  in  port,  and  the  Admiral 
is  my  friend! " 

Colonel  Dominguez  turned  pale  as  he  stood  there 
quivering  in  rage.  "  See  at  once  if  there  is  any  truth 
m  this  fellow's  story,"  he  said  in  a  low  voice  as  he  went 
clattering  out  to  where  the  horses  had  been  hastily 
caparisoned. 

All  the  way  to  the  embarcadero  the  plunging  steed 
reared  and  snorted  under  the  merciless  lunges  of 
Dominguez's  bloody  spurs.  "  Ca rajo  !  "  he  muttered. 
"I  have  the  Governor-General  behind  me.  For  the 
telegram  was  sent  two  hours  ago  as  he  ordered." 

It  was  a  busy  afternoon  in  the  official  circles  of 
Matanzas.  The  bay  was  ploughed  with  boats  going 
and  coming  in  the  ceremonies  of  the  hated  republic, 
exchanging  its  thin-veiled  politeness  with  the  bloodiest 
crown  in  the  Old  World. 

James  Nixon,  a  haggard-eyed  man,  was  only  half  an 
hour  closeted  with  the  excited  American  Consul.  The 
incumbent  happened  to  be  a  man  of  energy  and  decision. 

Before  he  had  been  five  minutes  with  the  en 
raged  prisoner  the  consular  secretary  was  speeding 
away  to  the  Kearsarge  with  a  brief  letter  to  Fleet- 
Surgeon  Bradford,  U.  S.  N. ,  scribbled  on  a  leaf  torn 
from  the  Consul's  note-book,  and  the  official  himself 
was  demanding  a  fitting  room  and  refreshments  for  the 
prisoner.  This  was  speedily  granted.  Then  the  inter 
view  concluded  with  these  words : 

"  All  I  ask  of  you,  Doctor  Nixon,  is  to  remain  silent," 
said  the  Consul.  "I  will  find  out  in  regard  to  the 
poor,  butchered  boy.  I  shall  send  a  telegram  at  once 
to  the  State  Department,  and  if  you  are  right  I  will  see 
that  the  Associated  Press  correspondent  gives  this  to 
the  civilized  world.  If  General  Romero  is  a  natural 
ized  American  citizen,  then  the  boy  was  simply 
assassinated!  And  yet  I  can  see  no  object  in  his 
wanton  murder," 


104  HIS    CUBAN    SWEETHEART. 

"Alas,  my  dear  friend,"  muttered  the  prisoner, 
"the  lad  is  dead.  The  last  of  a  historic  line;  it 
will  bring  his  old  father's  head  low  soon  enough.  A 
sister's  broken  heart,  too.  My  God!  This  will 
shadow  my  whole  life ;  for  I  brought  the  boy  here. 
Would  to  God  that  I  had  died  in  his  place." 

"There  will  be  reparation  for  this  outrage,"  ener 
getically  said  the  excited  official  as  he  strode  away. 

"Alas,"  muttered  the  prisioner,  "the  meanest  gov 
ernment  does  not  hesitate  to  brave  the  American 
flag.  The  solid  phalanx  of  seventy  millions  is  in 
sulted  by  every  popgun  South  American  republic. 
As  for  Spain,  the  Virginius  blood  is  hardly  dry  yet. 
Cuba  has  always  been  a  shambles  for  the  unprotected 
American." 

"Ah,  Nixon,"  cried  the  Consul,  on  his  return  two 
hours  after.  "There  never  was  a  sadder  story.  The 
poor  lad,  still  suffering  from  a  blow  on  the  head,  was 
thrust  into  a  cell.  Dragged  before  the  Comandante 
he  was  confronted  with  the  papers  claimed  to  have 
been  found  among  his  effects  at  the  priest's  house. 
Without  a  friend,  without  counsel,  without  a  single 
half  hour  for  thought,  the  brute  Dominguez  called  in 
a  drumhead  court  of  those  base  fellows  you  saw  hang 
ing  around  him.  The  boy,  ignorant  and  heedless  of 
what  was  passing,  gave  spirited  denials  and  claimed 
American  protection.  On  his  Cuban  appearance  and 
the  papers,  which  seem  to  have  been  of  a  revolu 
tionary  nature,  the  court,  assembled  at  ten,  con 
victed  by  eleven.  The  boy,  led  back  to  his  cell,  at 
half-past  eleven  was  marched  out  to  the  quadrangle. 
The  under  jailer  was  touched  by  his  superior  refinement 
and  the  spirit  of  his  bearing.  '  One  touch  of  nature 
makes  the  whole  world  kin.'  A  priest  was  dragged  in 
hastily  and  the  poor  boy  had  just  ten  minutes  given 
him  for  a  brief  adieu  to  earth.  The  last  thing  he  did 
was  to  draw  off  a  little  gold  ring.  Here  it  is.  '  Por 
mi  hcrmana  Inez,  Mi  querida  !  '  And  for  his  father  a 
lock  of  his  hair.  "By  jove,  Nixon!  that  lad  went 
out  without  a  tremor  to  the  firing  place  and  cried: 
'  Viva  la  Cuba! '  as  he  sprang  into  the  air  blown  off  his 
feet  by  a  crashing  volley." 


HIS    CUBAN    SWEETHEART.  105 

The  recital  was  interrupted  by  the  entrance  of  a 
young  Cuban  officer  of  the  Guardia  Civile,  who  saluted 
the  Consul. 

"Colonel  Dominguez  leaves  this  instant  for  Havana 
on  a  special  train.  He  requests  you  to  join  him,  as  he 
will  order  the  instant  release  of  this  gentleman. 
There  is  an  American  naval  officer  waiting  in  the 
Comandante's  room  for  your  friend." 

Such  was  the  sentence  which  ended  James  Nixon's 
first  and  last  interment  within  prison  walls. 

"Wait  here  for  a  few  moments,  Doctor,"  cried  the 
Consul,  as  he  sallied  forth.  "I  will  have  all  your 
property  brought  here  and  Surgeon  Bradford  escorted 
to  you." 

"  I  must  not  let  this  young  fire-eater  meet  Domin 
guez,"  mused  the  Consul.  For  there  was  a  steely 
glare  in  Nixon's  glance  which  spoke  of  an  eye  for  an 
eye,  and  a  tooth  for  a  tooth,  the  red  draconian  code 
of  Moses. 

With  a  rush  and  a  bustle  portly  Surgeon  Bradford, 
U.  S.  N.,  hurried  at  last  into  the  cuartel. 

"  My  God  !  Jimmy  boy,  but  you  have  had  a  rough 
time.  All  right  now.  And  that  skunk  Dominguez 
has  cleared  out  for  Havana.  He  left  orders  for  you 
to  be  sent  back  with  honor  to  Hacienda  Romero,  the 
horses  and  saddles  to  be  delivered  to  you,  and  all 
expenses  paid. 

"  The  Admiral  has  already  sent  for  the  Consul  and  a 
joint  report  to  the  State  and  Navy  Department  will  be 
telegraphed.  So  you  are  all  right." 

"All  this  will  not  bring  back  the  murdered  boy," 
faltered  James  Nixon  as  he  grasped  his  uncle's  hand, 
while  his  voice  trembled.  "I  am  accountable  for 
Felipe's  life." 

"  Stay  !  Perhaps  not  so.  James,"  soberly  said  the 
handsome  old  surgeon,  a  blue  and  gold  ladies'  pet,  as 
he  unbuttoned  his  white  frogged  relief  jacket,  "an 
open  telegram  to  me  for  you  was  repeated  on  from 
Havana  here.  I  got  it  on  the  ship  before  I  knew  you 
were  in  trouble.  I  can't  make  it  out,  but  it  looks  as  if 
there  had  been  some  foul  play. " 


106  HIS   CUBAN    SWEETHEART. 

"  BRADFORD,  '  Kearsarge,'  Havana. 

Notify  Nixon  that  boy    Juan  has  disappeared,  may  follow. 
Beware  treachery. 

ABERCROMBY  AND  LORIMER." 

Nixon  swore  a  bitter  oath  as  he  read  the  lines. 

"If  this  little  scrawl  had  reached  me  at  Havana, " 
moaned  the  doctor,  "  it  would  have  saved  the  Romero 
line  and  prevented  a  murder.  Felipe  was  tracked  and 
betrayed.  It's  the  boy  and  that  damned  priest." 

"And  all  because  dear  old  Toplights  wanted  a 
breath  of  sea  air,"  sadly  answered  Bradford,  "  for  we 
hadn't  a  blessed  thing  to  do.  Such  is  life  !  Such  is 
fate !  So  runs  the  world  away !  Now,  my  dear  fellow, 
get  your  traps  from  these  chocolate  scoundrels  and 
aboard  the  Kearsarge.  I  only  wait  the  hour  when 
Uncle  Sam  will  turn  the  gray-eyed  lean  Southerners 
loose  and  grab  the  island.  Oh,  Jonathan  !  How  I 
would  like  to  see  Spain  get  a  licking.  That  wrinkled 
old  Spanish  hide  is  itching  for  it." 

"Uncle,"  said  James  Nixon  solemnly,  "I  have  a 
weighty  trust  to  perform — a  solemn  one.  My  honor, 
the  fate  of  a  family,  lies,  like  truth,  at  the  bottom  of  a 
well,  up  at  Jibacoa.  I  must  go  back  there.  The  Col 
onel  has  ordered  all  the  honors.  I  leave  the  ven 
geance  for  this  murder  in  official  hands." 

The  Consul  rushed  in.  "Come  along  now,  Doctor. 
I  have  a  carriage  waiting.  My  house  is  open  for  you 
both.  And  you  must  get  your  articles.  Come  and 
inspect  them." 

"You  don't  go  back  to  any  Jibacoa  alone,"  reso 
lutely  remarked  the  surgeon.  "See  here,  Mr.  Consul, 
I'll  have  the  Admiral  send  Nixon  up  on  that  steam 
launch  to  Jibacoa.  Some  blue-jackets  apparently 
unarmed  can  step  ashore  with  him.  But  every  man 
jack  will  have  two  revolvers  in  his  boot  legs.  I'll  go 
along  also,  and  if  there's  any  blood-letting,  I  am  rignt  in 
that  line.  We  will  get  under  your  mahogany  on  our 
return.  You  stay  to  do  what  you  can  to  avenge  this 
poor  butchered  schoolboy." 

"  Your  plan  is  a  good  one,"  said  the  Consul. 

As  the  trio  walked  out  of  the  cuartel,  Nixon  turned 
on  the  under  keeper  who  had  sorrowed  over  poor  Felipe:. 


HIS   CUBAN    SWEETHEART.  107 

"  Where  did  they  bury  him  ?"  he  asked  as  he  handed 
the  turnkey  a  gold  piece. 

"Senor,"  said  the  Cuban,  "I  am  poor  but  I  take 
not  the  price  of  blood.  It  is  in  the  Campe  Santo;  I 
placed  a  cross  there  myself  to  mark  the  spot.  Just  a 
rude  one,  but  a  cross  with  the  date  and  my  own 
fie r ma. " 

Nixon  turned  to  the  Consul.  "  The  boy  came  with 
me.  He  shall  go  back  with  me.  Will  you  demand 
this,  and  have  the  body  prepared  for  shipment  to  New 
York  at  once  ?  I  shall  take  the  first  steamer  as  .soon 
as  I  have  recovered  my  property  at  Hacienda  Romero, 
and  restored  the  horses  to  the  innkeeper." 

So  Nixon  slept  under  the  Stars  and  Stripes  that 
night,  and  groaned  that  he  could  not  open  a  double 
broadside  on  the  cuartel,  where  Romero's  murderers 
were  laughing  over  their  cards  at  the  poor  dead  boy's 
plucky  death.  "But  we  missed  the  Gringo,"  they 
growled. 

The  young  adventurer  could  scarcely  believe,  as  the 
launch  swept  in  Jibacoa  Bay  next  noontide,  that  but 
two  days  had  dreamed  along  in  the  golden  sunshine 
and  Felipe  Romero  slept  cold  in  death.  A  party  of 
American  jack-tars  escorted  him,  and  Nixon  was  sternly 
silent  as  he  drove  up  the  beautiful  palm-shaded  road  to 
the  old  hacienda.  When  the  blue-jackets  examined  the 
priest's  house  there  was  no  one  to  meet  them  but  the 
consular  secretary.  "The  property  is  here,"  he  said, 
"  but  the  sly  woman  has  cleared  out." 

"And  Juan  Valdes  with  her.  Yes,  it  was  Juan," 
cried  the  doctor. 

For  now  the  two  strange  encounters  came  back  to 
his  mind.  "  I  will  warrant  Padre  Viciente  knows  al 
ready  of  the  murder.  But  one  thing  he  does  not 
know!"  Turning  to  his  uncle,  the  young  man  said: 
*'  I  dropped  my  paint  box  in  an  old  cistern  down  there. 
Send  the  sailors  down  with  me." 

Nixon  had  prepared  a  cord  and  a  light  grappling 
iron.  While  his  uncle  wandered  through  the  deserted 
halls,  where  some  of  the  beautiful  women  of  the  Ro 
mero  line  had  swept  along  in  satin  and  jewels,  the 
doctor  held  his  breath  as  the  handy  sailors  brought  up 


108  HIS    CUBAN    SWEETHEART. 

an  assortment  of  tropical  snakes,  disjecta  membra  of 
all  kinds,  and  finally  a  leaden  case,  all  covered  with 
dirt  and  slime. 

"Yes,  that's  it.  That  is  all,"  he  said,  as  he  stood 
gazing  at  the  object  lying  at  his  feet. 

"I  am  afraid  it  is  badly  damaged,"  remarked 
Bradford,  who  came  up  as  the  men  laid  it  on  a  stone 
to  drain  and  dry  in  the  sun. 

"Oh,  that's  of  no  consequence,"  carelessly  replied 
the  young  doctor.  "Let  us  hasten  and  get  back  to 
Matanzas  as  soon  as  you  can.  I  must  telegraph  to 
Abercromby  and  Lorimer.  Pray  God  the  soil  of  Cuba 
may  never  be  pressed  by  my  foot  again,  until  the  Stars 
and  Stripes  wave  over  it." 

He  strode  on,  with  the  leaden  casket  under  his  arm, 
down  the  abandoned  garden  and  climbed  the  hill  to 
the  priest's  house,  where  the  ambulance  was  now  ready. 
He  kept  his  eyes  turned  away  from  the  darkened  hall, 
where  it  seemed  he  could  see  graceful  Felipe  Romero 
petulantly  toiling  at  digging  his  own  grave! 

"I  have  it  safe,  the  record  of  a  blood-stained  treas 
ure.  Blood-bought  again  from  the  keeping  of  the  dead 
years.  And  may  this  blood  not  be  shed  in  vain,  i'or 
if  this  box  be  ever  opened  it  will  be  by  an  innocent 
woman's  hand,  and  the  last  of  t!;.  Romeros." 

So,  heavy  hearted  even  in  the  hour  of  this  success, 
Nixon  sailed  back  over  the  darkening  seas  to  Matanzas 
and  the  Kearsarge. 

A  sigh  of  relief  escaped  the  young  doctor's  breast  as 
he  hastily  strode  below  to  the  stateroom  of  the  fleet 
paymaster,  and  that  businesslike  official  cheerfully 
locked  up  the  rusty  leaden  casket  in  the  safe  where 
the  great  stores  of  Uncle  Sam's  good  green  bills  were 
snugly  tucked  away. 

A  rap  at  the  door  announced  an  official  message. 

"Admiral   Toplights's  compliments  to  Ur.    Nixon, 

and  he  would  be  glad  to  see  him  at  once  in  his  cabin." 

"There  you  are,"  growled  the  paymaster.      "Old 

father  Toplights  has  some  fatherly  counsel   for  you. 

And  mind  you  don't  forget  what  he  says.      For  he  has 

the  kindest  heart  and  the  longest  head  in  the  service." 

Nixon  sought  the  rooms  once  occupied  by  Winslow, 


HIS   CUBAN    SWEETHEART.  109 

and  from  which  on  that  Sunday  morning  off  Cherbourg 
the  rosy-faced  old  sailor  cheerfully  emerged,  saying  as 
the  Alabama  swept  out  into  range  showing  her  big 
Blakely  teeth:  "Take  their  first  fire,  Thornton! 
Get  their  range.  We'll  see  them  a  little  later  !  " 

"Ah,  my  young  friend,"  earnestly  said  Admiral 
Toplights,  "  pray  be  seated,  and  give  me  your  imme 
diate  plans  and  wishes.  As  the  survivor  of  this  unfor 
tunate  affair  you  are  a  marked  personage  in  Matanzas. 
Pray  let  me  have  any  letters  or  telegrams  you  wish 
dispatched  at  once.  Have  you  any  important  busi 
ness  in  the  town  ?  "  The  fine  face  of  the  Admiral  was 
clouded  and  thoughtful. 

"  Only  the  immediate  removal  of  young  Romero's 
body,"  soberly  said  Nixon.  "I  have  a  very  valuable 
deposit  in  the  paymaster's  safe — that  is,  a  very  impor 
tant  one.  Otherwise  I  am  all  ready  to  step  on  the  New 
York  steamer,  which  sails,  I  believe,  in  two  or  three 
days." 

"Ah,  very  good,"  answered  Admiral  Toplights. 
''  The  Consul  has  already  reported  that  the  remains  of 
your  poor  friend  have  been  delivered  to  him,  but  the 
port  authorities  and  the  steamer  agents  absolutely 
refuse  to  allow  the  case  to  be  shipped.  They  allege  a 
fear  of  New  York  quarantine.  So  no  way  is  open  for 
you  to  reach  New  York  soon,  unless  you  leave  the 
trust  of  honor  to  the  Consul." 

"  I  must  go  back  to  New  York  at  once.  This  poor 
boy's  father  is  my  patient.  I  fear  the  result  of  the 
news  which  will  reach  him  from  the  outside.  I  must 
send  some  telegrams  and  letters;  but  I'll  not  desert 
poor  Felipe.  Together  we  came,  we  have  succeeded 
in  a  very  grave  mission,  and  he  must  be  borne  back  by 
me.  I  dare  not  trust  the  other  deposit,  a  grave  family 
matter,  to  any  hand  but  my  own." 

"Then,  Doctor,  favor  me,"  said  the  puzzled  Ad 
miral.  "Let  me  think  things  over  till  after  dinner. 
Write  all  your  telegrams  here  at  my  table." 

The  fleet  staff  lieutenant  then  entering  respectfully 
handed  to  Admiral  Toplights  the  bulky  morning  mail. 

While  Nixon's  fingers  traced  dispatches  to  Lorimer, 
to  Abercrombie,  and  to  Inez  Romero,  he  was  startled  by 


110  HIS    CUBAN    SWEETHEART. 

the  Admiral  crying  out:  "Sailor's  luck!  A  telegram 
from  the  Secretary  to  detach  the  Yantic  and  send  her 
north  at  once  to  the  Brooklyn  Navy  Yard.  She  is  at 
Havana.  I  will  order  her  here,  for  I  wish  to  send 
some  'time  expired'  men  home  on  her.  So  you,  your 
valuable  deposit,  and  all  that  is  left  of  this  poor  lad 
can  go  north  at  once,  on  the  Yantic.  It  also,"  he 
said  heartily,  "saves  you  all  expense." 

"Admiral,  I  am  more  than  grateful,"  murmured 
Doctor  Nixon,  as  he  warmly  pressed  the  hand  of  the 
kindly  commander.  "General  Romero  shall  learn  of 
your  great  courtesy,  and  his  thanks  as.  well  as  the  boy's 
sister's  gratitude  you  will  learn  of  later.  I — I  dare 
scarcely  face  that  poor  girl,"  he  faltered.  "She  will 
be  alone  in  the  world  soon." 

"Stay  a  moment,  Doctor,"  said  the  Admiral,  ashe 
took  the  telegrams.  "  I  will  also  order  that  when  you 
wish  to  go  ashore,  two  watch  officers  and  a  dozen  sailors 
shall  accompany  you.  It's  not  an  official  guard,  but  it 
amounts  to  the  same  thing,"  the  old  warrior  grimly 
smiled. 

That  night  by  the  winding  Hudson  a  hurried  mes 
senger  rode  up  to  Edgecliff  with  the  fatal  words  which 
told  anxious  Frank  Lorimer  of  the  finding  of  a  packet 
and  the  untimely  fate  of  the  poor  lad. 

"Do  not  inform  General  Romero  till  my  return.  Coming  on 
U.  S.  corvette  Yantic,  Letters  by  this  mail." 

The  next  morning,  leaning  over  the  brass-bound 
rail  of  the  gallant  old  Kearsarge,  James  Nixon 
was  snuffing  the  cool,  fresh  morning  breeze  as  tlvj 
deck  officer  reported:  "There's  your  boat  coming  in." 

Doctor  Jim's  heart  bounded  in  happy  relief  as  the 
tall  spars  of  the  Yantic  swept  up  on  the  blue  mar 
gin  of  the  sapphire  sea.  He  turned  his  eyes  to  the 
port,  and  his  brow  darkened  as,  with  black  smoke  pour 
ing  from  her  funnels,  the  New-York-bound  steamer 
passed  swiftly  out  from  her  buoy,  her  decks  black  with 
passengers. 

"  Curse  this  Spanish  chicanery,"  ejaculated  Nixon. 
"That  packet  will  be  in  New  York  four  days 
before  the  Yantic  can  reach  Sandy  Hook.  I  would 
have  been  sailing  away  on  her  but  for  those  brutes." 


HIS   CUBAN    SWEETHEART.  Ill 

And  Nixon's  eyes  rested  dreamily  on  the  steamer 
spurning  the  quiet  waters  into  great  foam  flakes, 
as  the  twisting  screw  thrust  her  along  over  the 
fairy  coral  reefs  below,  where  under  the  sparkling 
brine  the  myriad  flowers  of  the  sea  and  vast  treasures 
of  under  current  lige  made  the  blue  depths  a  wonder 
and  mystery  of  beauty. 

"  It  is  an  earthly  paradise,"  he  mused.  "  Beautiful, 
beautiful  Cuba.  But  this  paradise  has  its  serpents." 

This  was  truer  than  he  knew,  for  one  was  departing 
from  it  ;  Juan  Valdes's  black  dancing  eyes  were  even 
now  glittering  at  a  port-hole  of  the  passing  boat.  The 
spy  was  first  a'cay  ! 

"  I  will  beat  him  up  there  !  Anyway,  I  have  earned 
the  padre's  regalo,"  Juan  muttered.  "  I  have  done  his 
bidding  and  the  Yankee  has  been  foiled.  He  has  got 
nothing.  Felipe  is  safe.  He  won't  talk  ! "  And  the 
stony-hearted  young  scoundrel  laughed  as  he  twisted 
up  a  corn-husk  cigarette. 

"  There  is  a  single  gleam  of  comfort, "  mused  Nixon. 
"  Guerra  shall  discover  naught  from  the  manuscript. 
For  the  case  shall  be  instantly  deposited  in  New  York 
behind  many  bolts  and  bars,  and  when  Miss  Inez 
Romero  breaks  the  seal  of  the  past,  she  shall  be  alone 
in  one  of  the  rooms  of  the  Safe  Deposit  Company. 
General  Romero  shall  not  know  of  this  find  until  the 
padre  is  far  away  with  that  yellow  devil,  Manuela,  at 
Jibacoa.  For  the  priest  would  bully  the  truth  out  of 
him." 

By  the  prudential  wisdom  of  the  Admiral,  the  case 
which  was  Nixon's  mournful  charge  was  directly  sent 
on  board  the  corvette.  The  intention  of  the  young 
doctor  to  depart  was  hidden  even  from  every  member 
of  the  ship's  company.  The  fleet  staff  lieutenant,  the 
paymaster,  and  Surgeon  Bradford  alone  shared  the 
knowledge  of  the  Consul  and  the  Admiral.  Nixon's 
slender  baggage  was  secretly  removed  to  the  Yantic. 
It  needed  but  six  hours  to  transfer  the  home-going 
crew  to  the  cruiser  lying  with  her  fires  banked  near  the 
flag  ship.  The  Consul  had  repaired  alone  to  the  depart 
ing  vessel,  and  no  one  knew  when  Surgeon  Bradford  and 
Doctor  Nixon  slipped  on  the  Yantic  s  quarter-deck 


112  HIS    CUBAN    SWEETHEART. 

that  a  new  ward-room  guest  swelled  the  merry  circle  of 
the  bright,  brave  hearts  clustered  around  the  hospitable 
mahogany. 

But  the  little  package  under  Nixon's  arm  was  safely 
hidden  behind  steel  plates  before  he  sat  down  to  the 
last  conference  with  his  two  friends.  "I  am  now 
ready  for  the  hardest  duty  of  my  life,"  said  James 
Nixon,  as  the  men  began  to  tramp  around  in  a  wild 
war  dance  above  the  anchor. 

"Do  not  forget,  Doctor,"  returned  the  Consul  heart 
ily,  "use  me  in  all  and  every  way,  for  your  return 
would  be  impossible.  There  would  be  no  official 
objection,  but  you  would  be  quietly  assassinated, 
that's  all.  Oh,  I  know  my  dear  Cuban  friends,  my 
Spanish  'compadres,'  very  well.  As  for  me,  I  am  as 
safe  as  can  be.  Nothing  kills  a  consul.  They  say  so 
at  Washington.  '  Few  die  and  none  resign.'  ' 

"  Do  not  forget,  James,"  cries  his  gallant  old  uncle, 
wringing  his  hand  in  farewell. 

The  young  man  paced  the  deck  as  the  /antic  *-ose 
with  long,  defiant  sweeps  on  the  breasting  surge,  and 
marked  the  last  flashes  of  Matanzas  light. 

The  stout  ship  danced  on  northward,  while  James 
Nixon  found  on  his  sea-tossed  pillow  a  haunting  vision 
of  eyes  which  would  brighten,  "burning  yet  tender," 
on  his  home  coming. 

"  I  shall  never  forget  this  unobtrusive  kindness  and 
the  Yantic"  heartily  said  Doctor  Jim  as  he  stood 
with  the  executive  officer  five  days  afterward  when  the 
stout  old  cruiser  showed  her  nose  resolutely  under 
Brooklyn  Bridge  and  nestled  lovingly  on  the  muddy 
waters  of  Wallabout  Bay. 

"  She  is,"  proudly  replied  Lieutenant  Walsingham,  "a 
•hospitable  ship — a  good  old  tub  with  a  fine  war  record, 
and  has  done  more  sea  duty  than  all  these  pastry  cook 
pets,  the  White  Fleet.  Now,  Doctor,"  added  the 
lieutenant  as  he  swung  his  trumpet  in  recognition  of  a 
chum  on  the  "Philadelphia,"  "I  know  that  you  are 
now  anxious  to  go  ashore.  Let  me  suggest  that  I  send 
your  embarrassing  charge,  the  body,  under  a  decent 
guard  to  the  Naval  Hospital  variet  here  for  a  few  days. 
I  will  not  take  my  leave  for  three  weeks.  Telegraph 


HIS   CUBAN    SWEETHEART.  113 

me  to  the  yard,  I  will  meet  you  and  you  shall  have 
all  the  decent  facilities  we  can  give.  Now,  get  your 
things  together.  I'll  send  my  own  man  over  to  New 
York  for  you.  He  has  to  go  with  a  letter  from  me, 
anyway. " 

Then  he  cried,  "Hello!  are  these  your  friends 
Nixon  ? "  as  a  boat  shot  alongside.  Springing  up  the 
gangway  Lorimer  and  Abercromby  grasped  the  re 
turned  wanderer's  hands. 

"Tell  me,"   asked  Nixon,  eagerly,    "Juan  Valdes?" 

"He  has  been  back  three  days,"  said  Lorimer, 
"and  the  padre  has  him  by  the  ear.  Mum's  the  word 
with  both." 

"The  Ladies? '"' 
'All  well,"  answered  Frank. 

"And  the  poor  old  General?"  the  question  faltered 
on  Nixon's  tongue. 

"Ah,  Jimmy,"  sadly  said  Lorimer,  "the  poor  old 
King  of  Emeralds  is  a  King  Lear  now — a  wreck!  He 
is  wandering  in  cloudland — and — you  must  come  up 
at  once." 


114  HIS   CUBAN    SWEETHEART. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

THE  VITAL  HALF. 

"  CAN  you  come  at  once  ?  We  have  a  carriage  wait 
ing.  What  arrangements  do  you  wish  to  make  about 
—IT?" 

The  eager  friends  were  sobered  at  the  idea  of 
Nixon's  silent  traveling  companion. 

Turning  without  reply  the  doctor  presented  his 
friends  to  Walsingham.  "The  Lieutenant  has  spared 
me  all  embarrassment  for  the  present."  he  remarked. 
"  I  wish  tc  go  to  lower  Broadway,  to  my  bank,  first. 
Then  I'll  make  headquarters  at  our  office.  I  suppose 
we  will  take  the  night  train  home,  Frank  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  said  his  friend,  "for  God's  sake  come  up  with 
us  this  evening.  Mother  and  Ethel  are  both  worn  out 
with  holding  Inez  up  in  this  double  calamity.  By 
jove  !  I  forgot.  Here's  a  letter  for  you  from  my 
sister." 

Nixon  turned  quickly  away  to  hide  the  red  spot  that 
burned  on  his  cheek  ;  but  no  one  saw  it. 

"Nixon,  give  me  your  office  card,"  remarked  Wal 
singham  cordially.  "My  man  will  get  your  traps  over 
there.  He  may  tack  into  a  saloon  or  two,  but  he  will 
beat  into  port  all  O.  K. ,  like  the  jolly  old  Yantic." 

His  brother  officers  and  he  warmly  wrung  the 
doctor's  hand  as  the  three  friends  stepped  out  on  the 
Jacob's  ladder. 

Nixon  was  clinging  to  a  small  package  thrust  into  a 
traveling  sack.  "  If  I  live  to  cross  Brooklyn  Bridge," 
he  muttered,  "  the  thing  which  bears  still  the  unbroken 
seal  of  the  past  will  b^  put  where  even  the  all-seeing 
eye  of  the  Church  can  never  violate  the  secret  reserved 
now  for  the  one  who  is  to  lift  this  strange  curse — the 
last  of  the  Romeros." 

It  seemed  to  the  young  American  that  he  bore  a 
man's  life  in  his  hand,  and  that  poor  Felipe's  passionate, 
boyish  heart  beat  under  his  fingers. 


HIS    CUBAN    SWEETHEART.  115 

His  friends  with  delicacy  were  silent,  and  the  doctor 
trailed  his  hand  over  the  boat's  side  to  cool  his  excited 
nerves.  "It  is  charity — it  is  justice — it  is  fate — the 
General  must  never  know,"  he  decided,  "For  if  I 
dared  to  trust  him,  even  in  case  of  apparent  recovery, 
the  ecret  would  be  filched  from  him  by  the  priest. 
Padre  Guerra,  it  is  to  the  death  now,  my  yellow- 
faced  scoundrel.  For  the  emeralds — and  for  Inez's 
future  inheritance!  " 

"I  must  wait,"  he  mused,  as  he  entered  the  carriage 
and  drove  swiftly  away  to  the  Brooklyn  Bridge.  "The 
coming  diplomatic  row  ever  this  murder  may  result  in 
the  Spanish  Government  lifting  the  decree  of  confisca 
tion  should  poor  old  Romero  pass  on  into  the  dark 
realm  where  his  crown  would  be  a  shadowy  one.  I 
shall  let  the  old  padre  make  his  game.  We  must  pro 
ceed  quietly  to  get  him  out  of  the  villa." 

"  Where  will  you  go,  Jimmy?  "demanded  Lorimer  as 
they  all  left  the  bridge. 

"To  the  Equitable  Building,  Frank,"  mechanically 
said  Nixon.  It  seemed  now  as  if  he  dared  not  even 
trust  the  friends  of  his  heart  with  the  gloomy  secrets 
so  sadly  sealed  with  poor  Felipe's  blood.  "  That  dying 
priest's  curse  was  an  awful  legacy,"  he  mused. 
"  Felipe  murdered — the  poor  father  crazed.  And 
Inez,  perhaps,  soon  to  be  an  orphan  and — perhaps 
penniless." 

The  carriage  stopped  under  the  shadows  of  Trinity 
steeple. 

"  I  will  be  back  in  ten  minutes,"  he  said.  "  Then 
have  the  driver  take  all  side  streets;  you  cannot  get  to 
the  office  too  quick  for  me." 

Darting  in  with  the  crowd  Nixon  held  tightly  the 
sack  with  the  unbroken  case  which  had  lain  so  long 
resting  dehaj<>  ht  pircrtd  mayor.  Making  a  number  of 
turns  in  alley  and  arcade  he  came  out  at  a  Broadway 
corner  where  a  flight  of  steps  led  to  the  entrance  of  a 
huge  steel-armored  safe  deposit  vault.  With  a  sigh  of 
relief  he  sped  down  stairs.  "If  anyone  has  tracked 
us  they  will  be  watching  that  carriage,"  he  mused. 

'I  he  ready  official  led  the  young  doctor  into  a  closed 
corridor  of  the  huge  thousand  compartment  steel  chest. 


Il6  HIS   CUBAN    SWEETHEART. 

A  click  and  a  snap — and  two  heavy  locks  closed  on 
the  little  leaden  chest.  Then  Nixon  signed  two  names 
on  the  register  book.  The  official  read  after  him,  as  he 
gave  a  receipt  for  a  year's  fees,  the  names: 

James  Nixon,  New  York  City. 

Inez  Romero^  of  Edgecliff,  Fishkill,  New  York. 

"Going  to  be  married?"  smiled  the  official,  an  old 
friend,  with  our  easy  American  inquisitiveness. 

"I  am  thinking  of  it,"  evasively  remarked  the  doc 
tor  as  he  pocketed  four  little  steel  keys  and  then  went 
out  quickly  by  the  rear  entrance. 

"  I  don't  like  to  see  that  bright  young  fellow  marry 
a  foreigner, "  mused  the  steady  old  official.  "But  I 
suppose  she  has  a  great  fortune,  some  Mexican  or 
West  Indian  heiress."  Which  proves  that  no  one  has 
yet  discovered  the  art  of  piercing  a  millstone  with  a 
glance,  for  as  Nixon  sought  a  rear  street  and  returned 
to  the  carriage  he  was  dreaming  of  other  eyes,  loving 
and  tender,  not  burning  Creole  eyes,  but  Anglo  Saxon, 
blue  and  flashing,  under  golden  hair  of  a  remarkably 
choice  type  of  the  "  Daughters  of  the  Revolution." 

Jehu,  the  son  of  Nimshi,  stood  not  on  the  order  of 
his  going  but  whirled  them  away  up  the  island, 
followed  by  the  sullenly  inquiring  eyes  of  lazy  police 
men,  and  much  sudden  profanity  from  bespattered 
pedestrians,  toned  up  with  howls  from  an  affrighted 
applewoman  and  startled  newsboys. 

"Now,  gentlemen,"  cried  Doctor  Jim  as  they 
speeded  along,  "I  am  going  to  take  the  first 
train.  Abercromby,  you  will  be  the  same  dear 
old  fellow  if  you  will  hold  the  fort  at  the 
office.  Frank,  of  course,  goes  with  me.  I  fancy 
the  padre  will  soon  make  a  break  of  some 
kind.  If  we  can  chase  him  out  I  want  you  to  shadow 
him  thoroughly  down  here,  Abercromby.  The  docu 
ments  in  the  padre's  possession  I  shall  leave  with  him. 
I  will  make  no  reference  to  his  having  taken  away  the 
papers  which  he  found.  But  if  I  am  once  installed  in 
charge  of  the  patient,  then  I  will  bring  up  the  subject 
of  that  valuable  emerald.  As  a  man  of  law,  Frank,  it 
ought  to  be  easy  for  you  to  place  Inez  now  in  the 
position  of  '  guardian  ad  litem  '  for  her  incapacitated 


HIS   CUBAN    SWEETHEART.  1 17 

father,  and  so  go  on  record  as  her  attorney.  That 
will  give  you  the  needed  legal  power  to  bully  the  old 
crow  out.  In  case  I  find  Romero  to  be  really  crazed, 
then  the  proper  number  of  physicians  should  at 
once  be  asked  by  you  to  present  the  case  to  the 
nearest  judge  having  jurisdiction." 

•'All  right,  Nixon,  I  can  fix  it  up  with  one  day's 
time  when  you  say  go !  " 

"This  will  show  Mr.  Padre  Guerra  that  General 
Romero's  child  will  be  safely  guarded  by  the  lex-loci. 
Thank  God!  We  are  not  in  Cuba  here." 

"Amen!  "  said  the  two  listeners  heartily. 

"  Then  you're  going  to  let  him  kick  himself  out  ?  " 
inquired  Abercromby. 

"  Yes,  with  a  little  well-applied  assistance  at  the 
right  time, "  grimly  replied  Nixon.  ' '  But  how  in  God's 
name  did  the  General  learn  of  Felipe's  death  ?  Had 
the  padre  the  nerve  to  thrust  that  news  on  him  ? " 

"Oh,  bless  your  soul,  no,"  spiritedly  said  Lorimer. 
"The  New  York  journals  published  their  flaring 
account  of  the  shooting  of  the  poor  lad,  mentioning 
your  name  as  '  Henry  Morgan,'  though  I  knew  who  it 
was  at  once."  The  padre  was  down  at  Poughkeepsie 
on  some  clerical  errand,  and  Inez  was  all  unsuspecting 
of  danger  when  a  slick  gentlemanly  youth  drove  up  and 
requested  to  see  General  Jose  Romero.  He  would  not 
state  his  business  to  anyone,  but  insisted  on  seeing  the 
Don  personally.  When  Inez,  guarded  by  old  Basilio, 
let  this  smart  youth  into  the  room  where  poor  old  Jose 
was  dreaming  of  his  vanished  emerald  treasures,  and 
worrying  over  the  still  absent  boy,  the  stranger  stuck 
his  card  right  into  the  poor  veteran's  trembling  hand. 
It  bore  a  name  unkown  to  fame's  clarion  voice  as 

yet. 

"Look  at  it!"  And  Frank  produced  from  his 
pocket-book  the  following: 


H.  KINSLEY  SYNTAX, 

New  York  Daily  Calliope. 


Il8  HIS   CUBAN    SWEETHEART. 

While  Nixon  examined,  the  lawyer  proceeded  with 
his  story. 

"  '  Now,  General,'  the  bearer  of  that  card  said  confi 
dentially,  as  he  planked  himself  down  on  the  edge  of  the 
bed  and  yanked  out  a  long  reporter's  notebook,  "  you 
can  just  run  over  the  morning's  issue.  If  you  wish  to 
add  anything  in  regard  to  this  most  distressing  affair  I 
will  give  you  a  couple  of  columns  in  our  evening's 
edition.  I  am  holding  all  the  Fishkill  wires.  No 
scoop  on  me,  sir,  nary  a  scoop — too  fly  ! "  The 
wondering  Don  Jose  handed  the  paper  to  Inez.  I 
do  not  know  how  far  she  read  the  flaming  head-lines 
before  she  fell  senseless  at  the  reporter's  feet.  While 
the  women  took  poor  Inez  away,  Basilio  tells  me  that 
the  "  enterprising  reporter  "  enlightened  General  Ro 
mero  to  such  an  extent  that  when  the  padre  suddenly 
returned  he  found  our  dear  old  friend  shouting  and 
raving  in  his  excitement.  Basilio  at  once  sent  the 
gardener  on  a  run  for  me,  and  I  met  him  myself,  being 
ort  the  road.  Sending  him  on  to  my  mother  and  Ethel, 
I  arrived  in  time  to  give  the  reporter  a  few  hastily 
chosen  words,  which  I  hope  were  seasonable." 

Frank's  eyes  flashed  as  he  sadly  continued:  "  What  do 
you  suppose  the  effect  was  ?  The  fellow  leaned  against 
the  gate  post  and  finished  a  few  last  shorthand  notes, 
remarking  to  me  '  more  in  sorrow  than  in  anger, '  '  Very 
natural  !  I  see,  family  friend  and  all  that.  Now  what 
can  you  object  to  in  this  ?  The  public  want  the  news, 
do  you  see  ?  Must  have  it.'  Then  he  read  a  few  neat 
head-lines  :  '  A  Father's  Anguish  !  '  'At  the  Bedside 
of  the  Cuban  Patriot  Romero.'  'A  Beauty  in  Tears.' 
'  Affecting  Interview  of  our  Special  Correspondent 
with  the  old  Soldier  of  Cespedes  !  '  'Will  you  oblige 
me  also  with  your  name  ? '  he  added,  menacing  me 
fiercely  with  the  point  of  his  pencil." 

"What  did  you  say,  Frank?"  quickly  demanded 
Nixon  with  indignant  eyes. 

"  I  energetically  damned  him  and  the  Daily  Calliope 
and  the  public  and  Spain  too,  for  all  that  cussed 
brutality  in  driving  the  heart-broken  old  warrior  mad. 
But  H.  Kinsley  Syntax  was  in  his  buggy  and 
he  swung  his  hat  most  forgivingly  at  me  as  he  cried  : 


HIS    CUBAN    SWEETHEART.  IIQ 

'A  clean  scoop!'  I've  got  the  wires  all  tied  up 
for  six  hours  and  I  will  telegraph  the  whole  dictionary 
to  cut  off  the  fellows  of  the  Evening  Bugle.  They'll 
be  up  on  the  next  train.  Look  out  for  them.  They 
are  no  good.'  I  took  his  hint  and  put  two  of  my  men 
at  once  around  the  house  on  guard,  and  H.  Kinsley 
Syntax  was  the  first  and  last  reporter  to  interview  any 
one  at  the  Villa.  That's  all,"  said  Lorimer,  as  they 
drew  up  at  the  office. 

"And  the  padre?     Tell  me,"  remarked  Nixon. 

"He  talked  gravely  with  Inez,  then  questioned 
Basilio,  and  has  never  opened  his  lips  to  us.  He  took 
the  whole  charge  of  the  sick-room,  through  I  insisted 
on  the  local  physician  having  control  of  the  case. 
Two  or  three  Spanish  fellows  then  came  up  from  New 
York  and  lingered  all  day  with  Guerra.  The  General 
has  now  fallen  into  the  dejection  of  hopeless  wander 
ing  imbecility;  he  takes  Inez  for  her  mother.  He 
fondles  her  and  croons  to  her.  As  for  Juan  Valdes, 
he  slunk  into  the  Villa  three  days  ago.  I  asked  him 
no  questions,  and  he  clings  closely  to  his  uncle's 
shadow  now.  But  of  all  this,  that  which  struck  me  as 
very  strange — Padre  Guerra  has  never  even  mentioned 
your  name." 

"Ah  !  that  is  enough,"  said  Nixon  as  he  sprang  up 
the  stairs  of  his  office.  Then  the  three  friends  were  left 
alone  while  Abercromby's  man  ran  to  the  nearest 
restaurant  for  a  meal. 

"We  have  full  two  hours  yet  before  train  time, 
Abercromby, "  said  Nixon,  placing  two  of  the  keys  in 
a  sealed  envelope;  "just  write  your  name  over  that 
seal.  You,  too,  Frank."  When  this  was  achieved,  he 
indorsed  the  little  packet:  "  Miss  Inez  Romero,  Villa 
Romero,  Fishkill,  New  York,  in  care  of  Frank 
Lorimer,  Esq.,  Trustee." 

"Just  drive  down  to  the  Fifth  Avenue  Hotel  and  get 
this  little  packet  in  the  safe  there,  and  take  a  receipt 
as  per  the  address.  Then  to-night  do  you  send  over 
to  Taylor's  Hotel,  Jersey  City,  and  get  all  my  traps — 
Room  42,  Henry  Morgan.  Here  is  an  order  for  them. 
The  clerks  know  my  handwriting.  This  will  save  me 
from  any  possible  shadowing." 


120  HIS    CUBAN    SWEETHEART. 

While  Abercromby  was  absent,  Nixon  said  gravely: 
"  Frank,  you  and  I  have  got  to  see  this  whole  thing 
through  now.  Your  part  is  to  get  Inez  to  install  me 
legally  as  the  family  physician,  and  you  to  act  as  her 
lawyer.  Here  are  the  two  keys  belonging  to  me  of  the 
Safe  Deposit  box  wherein  Miss  Inez's  leaden 
case  is  hidden.  Here  is  the  receipt.  Now,  in 
case  of  my  death  you  can  take  the  girl  with 
your  mother  and  sister  down  there.  You  must  have 
the  first  documents  all  locked  up.  The  newer  ones, 
if  any  be  found,  will  be  needed  to  complete  the  revela 
tion.  I  will  give  you  the  receipt  from  the  Fifth 
Avenue  Hotel.  These  things  must  go  at  once  into 
the  vaults  of  the  Fishkill  Bank,  the  very  moment  it 
opens  to-morrow.  So  nothing  will  be  found  on  me  if 
I  should  be  waylaid.  If  aught  happens  to  me  com 
plete  this  trust  of  love  !  " 

"What  do  you  mean,  Jimmy?  "  faltered  Lorimer. 
"  You  have  not  lost  your  nerve  ?  " 

"No,  but  I  may  lose  my  life,"  answered  Nixon. 
"  Poor  Felipe  was  struck  down  in  a  far  country.  I 
may  be  paid  off  here  at  home.  We  cannot  tell  as  yet 
what  hidden  influence  we  are  fighting." 

"Yes,  and  carry  good  revolvers  night  and  day," 
cried  Lorimer  in  a  rage. 

"  I  presume  that  Padre  Viciente  will  make  some 
break,"  suggested  Nixon  calmly.  "He  will  hardly 
brook  our  control  !  ' 

"You  remind  me  of  something,"  said  Lorimer 
hastily.  "Young  Sheaver  has  given  me  a  list  of  the 
numbers  of  fifty  one-thousand-dollar  four  per  cents 
United  States  bonds.  The  Fishkill  Bank  has  alway. 
cashed  these  coupons  for  the  General,  but  neither  the 
president  nor  the  young  cashier  can  tell  me  where  he 
keeps  them  hidden  away.  Inez  knows  absolutely 
nothing.  Now,  if  Don  Jose"  has  them,  this  priest  may 
wheedle  them  into  his  hands  for  safe  keeping.  Good- 
by  to  the  bonds  then.  This,  with  occasional  pay 
ments  by  Munoz  from  some  estates  in  San  Domingo 
(not  under  the  Spanish  power),  seem  to  have  been  the 
bulk  of  Romero's  available  property." 

"Ah."    cried    Nixon,  starting    up  as  Abercromby 


HIS   CUBAN    SWEETHEART.  121 

returned,  followed  by  the  impromptu  dinner,  "we 
must  head  him  off  at  once,  then.  I  see  it!  Padre  has 
been  lingering  here  only  to  await  the  General's  death, 
and  will  finish  when  he  gets  control  of  the  secret  of 
the  emeralds.  When  we  get  to  Fishkill  I  will  go  at 
once  over  to  Villa  Romero  with  you.  Remember, 
Padre  Guerra  and  Juan  are  two  desperate  men.  Not 
that  I  fear,  but  I  may  need  your  action  at  once.  You 
will  see  where  the  padre  may  forget  himself.  He  will 
lose  his  temper  at  last." 

It  was  ten  o'clock  that  night  when  Dr.  Nixon 
entered  the  gate  of  the  Romero  villa.  Mrs.  Lorimer 
and  Ethel,  lingering  in  the  garden,  exchanged  their 
agitated  greetings  with  the  returning  adventurer. 

"Thank  God,  you  are  come  at  last!"  they  both 
cried,  and  the  amazed  Nixon  felt  Mrs.  Lorimer's  hand 
tremble  with  excitement  as  she  said:  "  Now  I  feel  safe 
at  last.  For  Frank  to  be  left  alone  in  this  house  of 
mystery  is  simply  tempting  strange  fates.  I  fear — I 
know  not  what." 

During  this,  a  little  drama  of  real  life  was  being 
enacted  in  the  salon  of  the  lonely  house.  Sefiorita  Inez 
Romero,  pale  as  marble,  but  firm  and  womanly,  signed 
unhesitatingly  two  papers  which  Frank  Lorimer, 
attorney  and  counselor-at-law,  had  prepared  with  all 
due  care. 

To  the  party  lingering  under  the  trees  Lorimer 
came  striding  along  quickly  over  the  lawn.  "All 
right,  old  man,"  he  said  lightly.  "You  are  in 
formal  control  and  I  have  her  letter  of  retainer.  She 
will  go  in  now  with  us,  so  be  on  your  guard." 

' '  Mrs.  Lorimer,  you  can  do  me  a  signal  favor, "  whis 
pered  Nixon.  "  Pray  remain  in  the  salon  with  your 
daughter  and  send  Basilio  to  wait  on  me  at  the  door  of 
the  sick  room.  I  will  call  him  in  when  I  need  him. 
Now,"  he  muttered  to  himself,  "  craft  against  craft. 
The  priest  must  show  his  hand." 

When  the  doctor  entered  the  sick  room  he  was  in 
stantly  confronted  at  the  door  by  Padre  Viciente  Guerra, 
whose  eyes  gleamed  ominously.  Extended  in  his  bed 
the  old  soldier  lay  like  the  effigy  of  a  cavalier  of  other 
days.  His  breathing  was  faint  and  his  lips  feebly 


122  HIS    CUBAN    SWEETHEART. 

moved  in  articulate  murmurs.  Nixon,  who  had  already 
conferred  with  the  local  practitioner,  made  a  gesture  of 
sudden  summons,  for  he  saw  Juan  Valdes  seated  on 
guard  at  the  head  of  the  bed.  The  boy  sullenly  raised 
his  head,  and  then  dropped  his  gleaming  eyes  as  he 
resolutely  settled  himself  in  his  chair. 

It  was  a  clear  case  of  two  Richmonds  in  the  field. 
Stepping  back  lightly  into  an  adjoining  room,  where 
Lorimer  stood,  the  young  doctor  was  followed  by  the 
insolent  churchman. 

"I  wish  to  examine  the  physical  condition  of  my 
patient,  General  Romero,"  said  the  doctor,  calmly. 
"It  is  of  importance  that  he  should  be  kept  perfectly 
quiet.  Request  that  young  man  to  leave  the  sick  room. 
I  will  now  provide  all  fitting  attendance  for  the  sufferer. 
He  must  have  skilled  and  proper  attention." 

"  By  what  right  do  you  dictate  to  me?  "  answered 
the  priest,  his  voice  thick  with  passion. 

"  By  this, "  answered  Nixon.  "  It  is  written  in  English 
and  I  will  translate  it." 

VVasn  the  brief  legal  paper  was  read  Padre  Viciente 
broke  out  in  bitter  words:  "  I  will  only  take  the  young 
lady's  own  directions." 

He  was  astounded  when  Senorita  Inez  at  once  en 
tered  the  room,  quietly  remarking:  "I  now  give  over 
the  entire  charge  of  my  father's  present  condition  and 
care  to  Doctor  Nixon." 

"  Will  you  please  tell  that  young  man  to  come  forth," 
coolly  said  the  practitioner. 

There  was  a  stubborn  silence. 

At  a  sign  Basilio  appca/ed,  respectfully  saluting  the 
young  physician.  "I  hope  there  will  be  no  necessity 
to  use  any  force  here, "  continued  Doctor  James.  '  'My 
friend  Mr.  Lorimer  is  the  proper  legal  representa 
tive  of  Miss  Inez.  I  will  now  leave  you  with  my  posi 
tive  orders  not  to  enter  that  sick  room  until  I  per 
mit  it. " 

The  astonished  priest  was  left  alone,  for  the  physi 
cian  passed  through  the  open  door,  which  Mr.  Frank 
swiftly  locked  from  the  other  side.  Basilio  stood  at 
the  other  door  of  the  sick  room. 

Light  as   a  panther's  stride  was  the  spring  which 


HIS    CUBAN    SWEETHEART.  123 

brought  Nixon  to  the  side  of  Juan  Valdes,  who  started 
up.  An  iron  grip  on  the  youth's  arm  pinioned  him, 
while  Lorimer  pointed  to  the  door.  On  the  threshold 
the  party  were  met  by  Padre  Guerra,  who  had  essayed 
the  other  entrance.  Twisting  the  struggling  youth 
out  of  the  door  Doctor  Nixon  signed  to  Basilio,  who 
placed  himself  in  front  of  it. 

"I  will  give  your  nephew  just  half  an  hour  in 
which  to  leave  the  premises  forever,"  vigorously  re 
marked  Lorimer.  "  He  knows  the  way  to  the  village. 
If  he  does  not  go  I  shall  have  my  own  two  men  put 
him  off  the  grounds  at  once.  And  if  he  comes  back — 
he  risks  his  life  !  His  refusal  will  force  me  to  send  you 
out  of  the  house  also,  with  him!" 

The  priest,  blind  with  rage,  gave  orders  by  signal  to 
Juan  Valdes,  who  moved  to  leave  the  house. 

"Stay,"  said  Lorimer.  "Basilio  will  go  with  this 
youth  and  see  him  off  the  grounds.  All  his  personal 
effects  will  be  sent  to  him  whenever  you  say.  Now 
you  and  he  know  that  I  absolutely  forbid  him  to  set 
foot  on  the  grounds  under  any  pretense." 

"This  is  your  work,  you  Yankee  schemer,"  furi 
ously  cried  Guerra.  "You  lured  away  the  poor  lad 
Felipe  to  his  ruin." 

"Did  your  friend  the  Spanish  Consul-General  tell 
you  that?"  said  Nixon  coldly.  "You  can  apply  to 
him  for  any  information.  Now  mark  me !  You  are 
simply  a  stranger  here.  For  General  Romero  has 
no  longer  any  control  of  his  own  legal  actions.  If  you 
meddle  I  will  have  the  constables  eject  you  to-morrow. 
You  may  remain  for  a  reasonable  time,  until  General 
Romero  shall  be  removed  to  a  retreat  or  recover  so 
that  he  can  travel.  But  it  depends  upon  your  own 
prudent  conduct." 

The  priest  turned  back  without  a  word,  then  walked 
away  baffled. 

"Frank,"  said  Nixon,  "now  take  all  the  ladies 
home.  Go  to  the  bank  in  the  morning  and  deposit 
these  keys.  Let  your  mother  take  Miss  Inez  with  her 
for  to-night.  To-morrow  be  sure  and  get  the  tempo 
rary  order  appointing  Miss  Inez  as  guardian  of  her 
father.  Leave  your  n  en  here.  Basilio  and  I  will 


124  HIS   CUBAN    SWEETHEART. 

watch  all  night.  Here  are  two  telegrams  which  I  wish 
you  would  send  in  the  morning  as  soon  as  the  office 
opens." 

Lorimer  grasped  Nixon's  hands.  "  I  am  afraid  to 
leave  you  here  alone.  Let  me  stay." 

James  Nixon's  eyes  flashed.  "Besides  my  loaded 
revolver  I  have  also  a  good  club  !  "  Then  he  handed 
his  comrade  Felipe's  little  golden  ring.  "  Give  this  to 
that  sweet  girl  and  tell  her  it  was  the  last  thing  her 
brother  kissed  in  life — that  he  thought  of  her  when 
he  faced  the  rifles.  This  lock  of  his  hair  was  a  gift  to 
the  poor  King  of  Emeralds.  I  cannot  bear  to  tell  Inez 
yet  the  whole  hidden  story  of  how  they  did  him  to 
death  !  Don't  fear  for  me.  Tremble  only  for  this 
yellow-faced  old  conspirator.  Basilio  has  a  great  de 
sire  to  knife  him,  and  he  knows  it,  too.  Go,  Frank  ;  I 
want  to  watch  the  poor  old  boy  and  study  him." 

Silence — silence  in  the  sick-chamber  where  the  young 
physician  watched  for  long  hours  every  movement  of 
the  uneasy  sleeper.  The  veteran's  fingers  moved  in 
the  mechanical  motions  of  devotion.  His  parched 
lips  murmured  :  "  Panchita  !  Panchita  !  "  as  his  eyes, 
staring  vacantly,  rested  on  the  picture  gazing  down 
above  his  head,  the  guardian  angel  of  his  saddened 
life.  To  Nixon's  ministrations  he  gently  submitted  as 
he  strove  to  read  in  his  face  the  key  of  the  dreams 
which  thronged  upon  that  poor  old  tired  brain. 

"  There  is  nothing  left  to  hope  for — nothing  but  to 
wait  for  the  'sweep  of  the  dark  angel's  wing,'  "  mur< 
mured  the  doctor,  at  three  o'clock,  as  he  noted  the 
effect  of  a  gentle  anodyne.  "  It  is  ebb  tide,  alas!  with 
the  poor  old  boy." 

The  physician  mused  sadly  upon  the  problem  before 
him.  "  He  may  not  ever  recover  to  give  an  intelligent 
account  of  his  affairs.  Such  poor  provision  as  is  made 
for  Inez  may  be  scattered  or  lost.  Those  missing 
bonds! " 

Thoroughly  familiar  with  the  old  villa,  Nixon 
reflected  that  he  had  nowhere  seen  a  safe  or  a  strong 
box.  "Can  he  have  hidden  the  bonds  away  in  the 
room?  Even  President  Shearer  has  never  handled  them. 
They  are  certainly  not  in  New  York,  for  he  always 


HIS    CUBAN    SWEETHEART.  125 

sent  the  coupons  down  from  here.  Can  the  padre  have 
taken  them  for  deposit  or  tricked  him  out  of  them?  " 

By  a  sudden  instinct  the  young  doctor  began  to 
study  the  whole  surroundings  of  the  sick-room.  The 
floor  was  of  old-time  stained  polished  oak,  covered  with 
rugs  and  mats.  "  He  would  not  be  likely  to  break 
that  up.  Too  hard  a  task  for  a  delicate  man." 

Beginning  systematically,  Nixon  examined  all  the 
walls  with  care,  and  moved  every  curtain,  even  turning 
aside  the  few  pictures  hung  upon  the  dark  wainscot. 
There  were  no  closets  or  cupboards  and  the  dressing 
rooms  were  adjoining.  "  He  would  try  and  keep  them 
near  his  bed,  where  he  could  see  them  if  he  wished 
to." 

So,  candle  in  his  hand,  Nixon  inspected  the  walls 
breast  high  around  the  room.  They  were  all  shin 
ing  with  the  dark  polish  of  bygone  years.  He  even 
passed  his  hands  over  the  broad  framings  of  the  doors. 
Suddenly  he  bent  to  the  closer  examination  of  the 
facings  of  the  doorway  wherein  he  had  exhibited  his 
revolver  so  impressively  to  the  padre.  A  fine  line 
divided  transversely  the  smooth  surface  above  a  banded 
moulding.  The  closest  examination  showed  a  faint 
division,  as  if  mad&with  a  watch-spring  saw. 

"  Here  is  a  bit  of  neat  cabinet-work,"  mused  Nixon. 
"  If  I  were  a  Yankee  born  I  would  soon  find  out  the 
reason  of  this  division." 

The  clock  ticked  away  noisily  in  the  front  hall  as 
the  doctor  prodded  the  woodwork.  Finally,  by  mere 
hazard  he  pressed  back  a  part  of  the  door  frame,  which, 
sliding  back,  disclosed  a  small  cavity  in  the  boxwork  of 
the  door  jamb.  Some  brown  documents  lay  therein. 

The  next  second  he  drew  out  the  papers  ! 

A  slight  noise  startled  him.  Turning  his  head,  he 
beheld  Jose  sitting  up  in  the  bed  and  clutching  excit 
edly  at  the  air.  His  lips  moved  in  an  unintelligible 
protest,  and  as  Nixon  sprang  to  his  side  the  old  man's 
feeble  head  fell  back  in  a  swoon. 

Five  minutes  later  the  doctor  picked  up  a  heavy 
envelope  which  had  fallen  out  of  the  opened  hiding- 
place.  It  was  one  of  the  stiff  pasteboard  envelopes 
used  for  documents,  and  bore  in  large  letters  the 


126  HI8   CUBAN 


words:  "Winslow,  Lanier  &:  Co.,  Bankers  and  Brokers, 
13  Wall  street,  New  York  City,  N.  Y." 

It  was  only  the  work  of  a  moment  to  explore  the 
little  cachette.  There  were  three  other  similar  cases, 
and  all  were  empty. 

Nixon  sat  down  and  buried  his  head  in  his  hands. 
"We  have  made  a  mistake.  Padre  Guerra  must  not 
go  forth  until  the  missing  bonds  have  been  found. 
For  in  these  cases  they  were  once  concealed,  there 
seems  to  be  no  doubt,  and  they  are  not  far  from  the 
person  of  this  schemer.  Here  is  the  place  to  study 
him  —  but  New  York  is  the  point  to  watch  for  the  bonds, 
which  were  probably  stolen  since  the  General's  mental 
aberration,  either  by  him  or  with  the  help  of  his 
Spanish  friends.  It  is  the  emerald  store  which  has 
held  him  here,  a  crown  of  ill  omen  to  the  last.  I 
think  I  will  surprise  you  to-morrow,  padre  mio  \  " 
mused  Nixon. 

With  a  relief  from  Basilio  the  doctor  divided  the 
night  between  snatches  of  sleep  and  studying  the 
solution. 

It  was  nine  o'clock  on  a  golden  morning  when  Mrs. 
Lorimerand  party  were  welcomed  at  the  front  driveway 
by  the  physician.  Inez  was  desperately  anxious  for  the 
doctor's  verdict. 

"I  can  tell  you  more  by  this  evening,"  he 
said.  "  Jacoby  and  our  local  friend  will  go  over  the 
whole  case  in  counsel.  I  have  telegraphed  for  the  New 
York  specialist  and  also  for  a  good,  reliable  man  nurse. 
With  a  grave  courtesy  to  Inez,  Nixon  then  led  Mrs. 
Lorimer  aside. 

"There  is  absolutely  no  hope,"  he  said.  "It  may 
be  a  matter  of  a  few  days  or  a  very  few  weeks.  But  I 
must  try  to  bring  on  a  last  nicker  of  the  lamp.  To 
night  I  will  tell  you  all,  when  Frank  is  at  hand. 
There  are  some  business  matters  which  demand  our 
instant  action.  Now,  pray  have  Inez  ask  Padre 
Guerra  to  join  us  for  a  few  moments.  It  is  imperative.  " 

The  priest  walked  out  upon  the  lawn  with  lowering 
brows.  He  was  humiliated  and  abashed,  and  yet  for 
all  his  wrath  he  dared  not  risk  an  open  rupture  almost 
in  the  presence  of  death. 


HIS    CUBA^T    SWEETHEART.  \2'j 

tl  Padre  Guerra,"  said  Nixon,  advancing  and  extend 
ing  his  hand,  "do  not  add  to  this  young  lady's  sor 
rows.  There  should  be  no  conflict  between  us.  I 
insisted  properly  upon  the  removal  of  your  trouble 
some  young  nephew,  who  has  caused  much  annoyance 
here.  You  might  see  at  once  that  he  continually 
recalls  the  loss  of  General  Romero's  son.  As  for  your 
self,  I  am  content  that  you  should  remain  and  minis 
ter,  spiritually,  to  Don  Jose.  But,  old  friend  as  you 
are  of  the  invalid,  I  demand  the  entire  control  of  my 
patient's  sick-room.  In  due  and  proper  time  you  shall 
have  all  opportunity  of  access  to  his  person.  Now, 
will  you  force  me  to  use  the  power  of  the  law,  or  will 
you  remain  and  aid  us  in  watching  for  the  return  of 
General  Romero's  reason,  or  the  final  event  ?  I  have 
no  objections  to  your  remaining — in  fact,  I  prefer  it, 
if  you  will  only  apply  to  me  for  access  to  him.  It  is 
for  you  to  decide,  as  we  have  strict  laws  hei\,,  and  I 
say  frankly  that  I  will  do  my  duty  as  a  sworn  physician. 
Do  you  agree  to  my  terms  ?  " 

His  voice  was   even    conciliatory. 

The  black  eyes  flashed  out  one  resentful  gleam  at 
the  cool  young  American,  but  the  padre  said  slowly :  "I 
do.  I  will  remain  and  minister  to  my  charge." 

"  Then  we  shall  surely  grow  to  be  the  better  friends 
every  day,"  cordially  remarked  Nixon.  "Will  you 
allow  me  to  ask  you  before  Miss  Inez  as  to  the  where 
abouts  of  the  General's  documents  which  you  sent  to 
New  York,  and  also  the  emerald,  which  you  are  aware 
is  of  great  value  ?" 

The  mestizo  sullenly  said:  "  The  documents  are  in 
expert  hands  in  the  city  and  I  have  the  emerald  here." 

The  ladies  exchanged  anxious  glances  as  Nixon  sug 
gested  pointedly:  "Mr.  Lorimer  has  begged  me,  then, 
to  ask  you  to  return  the  documents  at  once  here,  and 
also  to  deliver  over  the  emerald  for  safe  keeping.  It  is 
his  duty  as  Miss  Inez's  lawyer  now  to  take  full  charge  of 
matters  connected  with  the  estate  of  the  sick  man.  She 
is  responsible  to  the  courts  now  for  all  business  mat 
ters." 

Viciente  Guerra  strode  swiftly  to  the  house  and 
returned  in  a  moment  with  a  small  case,  which  he 


128  HIS    CUBAN    SWEETHEART. 

handed  to  Inez.  "  I  will  at  once  write  to  the  experts 
in  New  York  and  have  the  papers  returned  without 
delay,"  he  gravely  said.  "It  is  the  hour  for  my  usual 
devotions.  Can  I  do  aught  else  for  you?" 

The  doctor  bowed,  and  the  group  was  left  wonder 
ing  on  the  lawn  as  Guerra  paced  back  to  the  house. 

"I  was  right,"  mused  Nixon,  as  he  walked  apart. 
"  This  man  dare  not  now  leave  suddenly.  He  has  either 
secreted  the  bonds  here  or  else  he  awaits  their  realiza 
tion  in  New  York.  Europe  is  no  place  to  sell  them." 

High  noon  brought  back  Francis  Lorimer,  Esq.,  in 
the  eager  elation  of  success.  "All  right,"  he  said,  as 
he  leaped  lightly  from  the  buggy.  "The  Judge  signed 
the  order  at  once,  and  I  have  had  the  keys  safely  locked 
up.  All  quiet  here  ?  " 

Nixon  nodded  an  approval.  "  I  will  give  you  just  ten 
minutes  with  Miss  Inez,  Frank,""  he  remarked.  "Then 
we  have  a  new  and  serious  matter  to  meet.  Join  me 
in  the  summer  house." 

Nixon  stole  back  into  the  house,  and,  finding  Don 
Jose  calmly  asleep,  quietly  removed  the  four  envelopes 
which  had  contained  the  missing  bonds.  They  were 
covered  with  the  usual  private  marks  common  to  the 
New  York  dealers  in  such  securities. 

Five  minutes  after  he  displayed  these  secretly  to  the 
lawyer. 

"You  are  a  jewel,  Jimmy,"  heartily  said  Lorimer. 
"  Now  I  have  a  good  excuse  not  to  let  his  Reverence 
leave  here  till  he  restores  the  papers  at  New  York. 
Abercromby  can  be  here  at  eight  o'clock.  When 
our  friend  goes  back  to-morrow  morning  he  will 
have  the  list  of  the  bonds  which  young  Sheaver  has 
given  me,  and  their  New  York  agent  can  prove  the 
quarterly  collection  of  these.  There  is  a  special 
branch  of  the  New  York  police  force  which  is  devoted 
to  tracing  missing  securities.  The  first  man  who  offers 
a  single  coupon  or  a  bond  of  that  lot  will  be  promptly 
arrested  and  lodged  in  a  cell  alone.  Then  we  can  work 
on  the  padre  and  frighten  him.  Should  Don  Jose  have 
even  ten  minutes'  lucid  interval,  I  must  have  you  with 
me  to  learn  of  his  last  wishes,  his  will  and  all  his  San 
Domingo  affairs.  But,  first,  these  stolen  bonds!  It  is 


HIS  CUBAN    SWEETHEART.  129 

for  poor  Inez  we  fight  now.  The  emerald  legacy  can 
be  hunted  for  later.  I  will  trap  some  guilty  one  in  a 
week.  For  the  coupons  are  about  falling  due — and 
ready  money  is  ready  money  all  the  world  over. " 

I  wish  I  felt  as  confident  of  my  patient,"  sighed 
Nixon.  "But  here  are  my  two  medical  friends  coming. " 

An  hour  later  the  great  specialist  gravely  summed 
up  the  situation.  It  makes  little  difference,  gentlemen," 
he  said  quietly,  "whether  it  is  a  mere  heart  failure — 
the  action  of  a  brain  blood  clot,  of  a  sudden  stroke  of 
brain  paralysis  bringing  final  stupor  and  death.  There 
is  no  hope. 

"Be  prepared. for  the  end  at  any  time,"  added  the 
leading  light,  as  he  stepped  into  his  waiting  carriage. 
"The  chances  are  a  thousand  to  one  against  any  return 
to  reason." 

That  day  was  a  busy  one  for  Doctor  Abercromby 
which  initiated  him  into  all  the  mysteries  of  the  secret 
financial  police  life  of  New  York.  "Thank  Heavens  ! 
I  am  done  with  all  this  Hawkshaw  business  for  twelve 
hours,"  said  the  tired  comrade.  "I  feel  as  if  I  had 
honestly  earned  one  of  the  emeralds;  that  is,  if  they 
ever  materialize.  But  I've  now  stopped  all  the  foxy 
padre's  financial  games  in  grand  good  style." 

Three  days  later  the  sun  slowly  faded  over  the  Hudson 
hills,  and  a  silent  gathering  watched  the  sunset  fires  burn 
out  upon  the  meadows,  sweeping  donw  far  below  Edge- 
cliff.  The  portico  of  Villa  Romero  showed  the  sad  circle 
of  Don  Jose's  friends  lingering  there,  for  the  old  man's 
life  was  now  ebbing  away.  Doctor  Nixon,  some 
what  apart,  was  earnestly  listening  to  Frank  Lorimer, 
whose  face  was  puzzled  in  its  air  of  doubt  as  he  said  : 
' '  I  hardly  know  what  to  advise.  The  priest  is  certainly 
very  tractable.  Now,  you  see,  Munoz  writes  me  that  he 
has  no  bonds  on  deposit,  and  that  he  knows  of  no  large 
financial  investment  made  lately  by  our  poor  demented 
friend.  His  accounts  current  show  the  manage 
ment  only  of  the  San  Domingo  estates,  and  he  offers 
courteously  the  whole  accounts  and  vouchers  for  our 
inspection.  With  Abercromby  keenly  on  the  watch  at 
New  York,  the  bonds  cannot  be  marketed  in  America 
without  our  knowing  it.  I  have  cabled,  and  the 


13°  HIS    CUBAN    SWEETHEART. 

numbers  are  now  on  the  black  lists  in  Lon 
don,  Amsterdam,  Paris,  Frankfort  and  Berlin."  Then 
he  suddenly  added  :  "The  padre  !  he  is  far  too  slick, 
too  patient,  too  good.  He  has  humbly  lowered  the 
black  flag  he  nailed  to  the  mast  on  his  arrival.  Can  it 
be  that  he  has  sent  all  these  bonds  away  by  Juan  Val- 
des,  and  will  quietly  slip  away  later  ?  You  see  how 
cheerfully  he  returned  the  old  parchment." 

"Yes,"  doubtfully  remarked  Nixon.  "He  has 
surely  some  other  point  to  make  yet  ;  and  has  trimmed 
his  sails  now  to  meet  our  breeze.  Inez  tells  me  that 
the  priest  has  not  referred  even  once  to  her  brother's 
death.  This  is  strange.  Is  it  fear,  or  is  it  some  yet 
darker  mystery  ?  I  do  not  like  to  leave  the  place  until 
we  trace  out  the  bond  disappearance.  It  may  be  poor 
Inez's  only  mainstay  in  the  future." 

Frank  cast  a  quick  glance  to  where  the  girl,  now 
robed  in  deepest  black,  sat  between  her  silent  friends. 
"There  are  brighter  days  in  store,"  softly  said  Lori- 
mer  in  a  manly  tone,  and  the  hush  of  the  evening 
deepened  upon  them,  for  his  friend  understood — the 
golden  heart  of  youth  lay  at  her  feet. 

"  I  must  take  my  place  now  at  the  bedside,"  quietly 
whispered  Nixon  as  the  moonlight  began  to  steal  among 
the  trees. 

"Ah!"  the  doctor  started  forward  as  the  trained 
nurse  eagerly  beckoned  him.  "  What  is  it,  Simpson  ?" 

"Come  quickly.  He  is  awake  and  very  much  ex 
cited.  I  fear  that  the  time  is  coming." 

"  Be  ready  with  Inez.  I  will  send  the  man  out  to 
you,  Frank !  " 

A  single  glance  as  the  physician  entered  told  him  that 
the  last  flicker  of  life  was  giving  its  weird  exaltation  to 
the  dreams  thronging  the  poor  brain.  Turning  to  the 
nurse  who  had  already  watched  five  hundred  deathbeds, 
the  young  doctor  said:  "  Simpson,  how  long  since  this 
mental  fever  blazed  up  ?" 

"  Just  now,  sir,"  replied  the  wary  attendant.  "He 
tried  to  rise  and  has  since  been  calling:  'Panchita! 
My  Panchita?'  and  stretching  his  arms  out  to  the  pict 
ure  there. " 

"  Pray  step  out  and  ask  Mr.  Lorimer  to  request  Miss 


HIS    CUBAN    SWEETHEART.  13! 

• 

Inez  to  step  here  at  once.  Let  her  come  alone.  It  may 
quiet  him." 

The  (•  ark-robed  beauty  glided  into  the  room  and 
knelt  tiiently  at  her  father's  bedside.  Her  hands 
gently  pressed  his  chilled  palm  as  she  murmured  a 
flood  of  endearing  words  in  her  childhood's  tongue. 
With  a  frightened  inquiring  look  she  turned  to  the 
doctor.  "He  is  whispering  to  me  and  calling  me 
Panchita.  It  is  my  mother  whom  he  sees — not  poor 
Inez." 

"Speak  to  him,  it  may  calm  him,"  answered  the 
young  physician,  as  he  listened  to  the  trembling  words 
of  fond  endearment  falling  from  the  veteran's  lips. 

The  window  was  opened  to  admit  the  fragrant  sum 
mer  breeze  of  the  still  night.  A  silver  moonlight  stole 
in  and  lit  up  the  chamber  where,  but  one  shaded  lamp 
burned  at  the  farther  end.  Behind  them,  rosary  in 
hand,  stood  Padre  Guerra,  spectral  in  his  long  black 
robe.  His  murmur  alone  broke  the  hush  of  the 
moment.  Among  the  girl's  flowing  locks  the  old  man'.s 
feeble  hand  was  wandering  and  his  face  beamed  in  the 
moonlight.  He  faltered  tenderly:  "  Sing  to  me,  Pan 
chita,  sing,  mi  querida  !  Now  you  have  come  back  to 
me!  I  have  waited  for  you  so  long,  Panchita!  Waited, 
and  now  you  shall  sing  to  me.  Your  owi  song."  His 
voice  was  eager  as  he  gazed  up  into  the  sheaf  of  moon 
beams  falling  around  him. 

"  What  is  it,  this  song?"  whispered  the  doctor  as 
the  girl  turned  her  beautiful  wistful  face  toward  him. 

"  A  little  one  that  I  used  to  sing  him.  My  mother's 
own  song.  He  loved  it  so!" 

"  Sing  it  softly.  It  may  recall  him  to  you.  It  may 
break  his  last  dream  and  bring  him  back  to  you  again 
— to  know  you!"  gravely  ordered  the  young  doctor. 

Sweet  and  low  the  girl  sang  in  a  quaint  old  Spanish 
fashion.  Her  father's  hands  sought  hers  as  she 
chanted  in  the  silent  night. 

The  song  ceased,  but  in  fond  murmur  Don  Jose  was 
still  wandering  with  the  Lady  of  Jibacoa.  He  clung 
to  the  slender  young  hand  which  would  fain  warm  his 
chilled  palm  with  the  generous  blood  of  loving  youth. 

"Felipe,  too!     I  see  little   Felipe  running  to  meet 


132  HIS   CUBAN    SWEETHEART. 

us.  Let  us  go  home  now,  Panchita,  for  the  moon  is 
going  down!  " 

With  a  crash  a  galloping  horse  drew  up  on  the  grav 
eled  walk  before  the  portico  of  the  Villa. 

"Doctor  Nixon,  instantly!  No  one  else,"  cried  a 
sharp  ringing  youthful  voice.  "I've  a  telegram  for 
him !  " 

Frank  Lorimer  stepped  quickly  over  the  threshold  of 
the  sick-room  and  then  touched  Nixon's  arm. 

"Come  at  once;  only  for  a  moment,"  and  so  the 
doctor  left  Inez  kneeling  by  the  sufferer. 

Springing  softly  along  the  hallway,  Nixon  was  con 
fronted  by  a  bright  faced  village  lad.  "  Special  deliv 
ery,  and  an  instant  answer,"  he  said,  as  he  gazed  at 
his  horse  standing  there  with  quivering  flanks. 

Under  the  nearest  hall  light  Nixon,  tearing  open  the 
fateful  yellow  envelope,  read  the  words  of  portent.  He 
cried  in  joy:  "Checkmate,  Padre  Viciente!"  as  he 
studied  each  cheering  word.  It  ran  as  follows: 

"  Unknown  Spaniard  arrested  with  all  the  past  due  coupons 
on  his  person  at  Hernandez.  Money  Exchange,  Lower  Broad 
way,  Cuban  steamer  tickets  found  on  him.  Look  sharp  around 
you.  Will  hold  the  man.  It  is  a  United  States  arrest.  Tele 
graph  directions.  Can  Frank  come  down  ?  Answer.  Will 
hold  man  without  bail.  ABERCROMBY." 

"Wait  a  moment,"  said  the  startled  doctor,  as  he 
walked  toward  the  sick-room. 

The  sound  of  a  smothered  cry  reached  him.  As 
he  strode  into  the  chamber  Frank  Lorimer  was  raising 
the  prostrate  form  of  Inez  Romero.  For  her  father's 
hand  had  relaxed  in  death,  and  Viciente  Guerra  was 
raising  his  voice  in  solemn  prayer  over  the  dead 
cavalier's  body. 


HIS    CUBAN    SWEETHEART.  133 

CHAPTER  IX. 

THE  INNOCENT  HAND  BREAKS  THE  SEAL. 

DOCTOR  NIXON  turned  and  quietly  summoned  Mrs. 
Lorimer  and  Ethel.  "  Pray  lead  her  away  for  a  few 
moments,"  and  he  pointed  to  the  sorrowing  girl. 
Then  drawing  Frank  out  of  the  death  chamber,  the 
doctor  handed  him  the  despatch.  Lorimer  sank  into 
a  chair  and  lapsed  into  an  earnest  study.  They 
were  sitting  in  the  ante-room  in  full  view  of  Padre 
Guerra,  now  busied  with  his  religious  duties. 

"  This  whole  thing  turns  now  only  on  our  handling 
this  man  properly,"  remarked  Nixon  in  a  whisper. 
"  And  it  must  be  done  at  once.  We  must  avoid  all 
public  scandal  and  he  must  not  leave  here  till  the 
bonds  are  traced." 

"  We  must  keep  him  away  from  this  fellow  in  prison 
and  work  on  the  two  separately, "  answered  Frank.  '  'As 
for  Guerra,  let  us  begin  to-night.  He  is  shocked  and 
unmanned  by  this  sudden  event.  Let  me  talk  to  you 
very  threateningly  in  English,  which  you  can  interpret 
to  him  when  I  give  you  the  tip." 

In  five  minutes  the  clatter  of  hoofs  told  of  the 
departure  of  the  telegraph  messenger. 

The  house  was  in  a  strange  brooding  silence.  The 
moon  sailed  high  over  the  trees  and  the  night  winds 
wailed  a  wild  requiem  for  the  dead. 

"  Now,"  said  Lorimer,  who  had  arranged  the  Library 
for  a  conference,  "ask  the  padre  to  step  out,  for  the 
constable  will  be  here  in  half  an  hour.  I  want  him  to 
play  him  a  little  on  the  line  before  we  land  him." 

Viciente  Guerra  looked  up  in  grave  surprise  as 
Doctor  Nixon  laid  his  hand  on  his  arm.  "  Pray  join 
us  for  a  few  moments  in  the  library.  It  is  very 
important.  There  are  duties  to  the  living  as  well  as 
to  the  noble  man  who  is  gone  !  " 

With  an  air  of  reluctance  the  sullen  Cuban  adven 
turer  followed  the  doctor.  The  library  was  well 


134  HIS    CUBAN    SWEETHEART. 

lighted,  and  as  the  two  men  entered  Frank  Lorimer 
calmly  arose  and  locked  both  the  doors,  pocketing  the 
keys.  The  action  was  not  lost  on  Viciente,  whose 
furtive  eyes  sought  the  windows,  but  he  restrained 
himself  as  yet. 

"You  are  aware,  Padre  Guerra, "  began  Nixon, 
"  that  Miss  Inez  is  now  the  sole  .representative  of  her 
race.  Left  alone  in  the  world,  her  lawyer  and  the 
family  of  Mr.  Lorimer  are  her  only  friends.  We 
must  be  busied  at  once  with  the  case  of  General 
Romero's  estate,  as  well  as  the  necessary  arrange 
ments  for  his  funeral." 

Here  the  padre  startled  them  :  "I  shall  have  to  go 
at  once  down  to  New  York,"  he  solemnly  said.  "  The 
General  died  without  the  last  rites  of  the  Church.  He 
was  not  prepared,  and  there  is  an  old  excommunication 
still  hanging  over  the  family.  I  must  take  advice  as 
to  what  form  of  burial  I  may  properly  give  him." 

Nixon  hurriedly  translated  these  remarks.  His  col 
league's  eyes  answered  him. 

He  turned  again  to  the  priest.  "  We  will  relieve 
your  mind  of  any  anxiety  and  responsibility.  Mr. 
Lorimer,  as  legal  representative,  and  myself  will  ascer 
tain  at  once  Senorita  Inez's  wishes.  There  are  Ameri 
can  priests  at  Poughkeepsie,  and  all  fitting  and  proper 
funeral  ceremonies  shall  be  had.  Mr.  Lorimer  is  going 
hurriedly  to  New  York  to-morrow,  and  he  can 
accompany  you.  We  also  have  to  make  proper 
arrangements.  The  details  of  the  preparation  will 
naturally  fall  into  my  hands." 

"  He  was  my  friend  and  personal  penitent.  He  was 
not  prepared,"  stubbornly  said  Guerra,  who  now  saw  a 
little  cloud  no  bigger  than  a  man's  hand,  though 
unsuspicious  of  any  grave  trouble. 

"  Pardon  me,  Guerra,  he  was  a  beloved  friend 
to  all  of  us.  A  friend  to  every  man  worthy  of  his 
friendship.  He  was  God's  penitent,  not  yours  !  As 
for  his  preparation,  his  good,  gray  head  was  sobered  in 
chastening  sorrow.  He  went  out  on  his  lonely  way 
under  the  eyes  of  innocence,  and  leaning  still  on  the 
love  of  the  wife  who  had  gone  before  him." 

"I  shall  certainly  claim  aU  my  rights.   I  shall  appeal 


HIS   CUBAN    SWEETHEART.  135 

to  Seiiorita  Inez  herself,"  cried  the  priest,  starting  up. 

' '  Pardon  me, "  said  the  doctor,  as  he  stepped  between 
the  angry  man  and  the  door.  "No  one  shall  break  in 
on  that  girl's  sacred  sorrow,  not  even  you.  There  is  no 
one  here  under  your  spiritual  control.  Still,  as  a  guest, 
the  only  guest  in  this  house  of  mourning,  you  have 
grave  duties.  I  call  on  you  now,  both  as  a  friend  and 
an  honest  man,  to  aid  us  for  General  Romero's  sake!" 

"What  would  you? "replied  the  startled  priest. 

"I  will  tell  you,"  answered  Nixon,  sternly.  "A  start 
ling  event  has  happened  which  throws  a  dark  shadow 
upon  this  household  and  those  who  have  had  access  to 
the  sick  man  for  the  past  weeks." 

The  priest  wes  gazing  dumbly  from  one  hostile  face 
to  the  other.  A  low  tap  at  the  door  aroused  Lorimer, 
who  unlocked  it  and  then  spoke  a  few  words  to  two 
robust  men,  who  sat  down  on  watch  in  the  hall  in  full 
view.  It  was  singular  that  Lorimer  left  the  door  open 
as  he  seated  himself.  Padre  Guerra  was  a  little 
uneasy,  but  he  still  wore  his  professional  smile.  The 
white  teeth  flashed  out  yet  under  the  thin,  cruel 
lips. 

Both  the  Americans  moved  up  a  little  closer  to 
Guerra,  as  the  doctor  said,  firmly:  "A  Spaniard  who 
has  been  here,  who  has  been  seen  hanging  around 
Villa  Romero,  has  been  arrested  to-day  in  New 
York  City  with  a  mutilated  portion  of  valuable  securi 
ties  belonging  to  the  dear  General.  He  is  in  prison 
now,  and.  will  be  kept  in  solitude  there — and,"  Nixon 
pointed  to  the  hall — "these  officers  are  here  now  to 
make  other  arrests,  for  the  articles  stolen  are  of  enor 
mous  value.  The  house,  and  every  one  in  it,  is  now  under 
the  proper  espionage  of  the  law.  Detectives  at  New 
York,  Fishkill  and  Poughkeepsie  are  awaiting  anyone 
who  may  try  to  leave  here  without  our  sanction.  For 
Mr.  Lorimer  legally  represents  the  estate,  and  I  will 
aid  him  in  tracing  out  the  thief,  whoever  he  is." 

"  Who  is  this  person  apprehended?"  defiantly  said 
Guerra,  though  his  voice  had  a  feeble  ring. 

"lam  not  permitted  to  tell  you,  sir,"  remarked 
Nixon,  rising  and  gazing  firmly  in  the  padre's  eyes. 
"  But  it  is  a  person  you  know,  sir.  And,  moreover,  in 


136  HIS    CUBAN    SWEETHEART. 

addition,  we  have  brought  you  here  to  tell  you  that  we 
shall  also  request  the  immediate  arrest  of  your  nephew, 
Juan  Valdes. " 

'  My  nephew  a  thief !  This  insult — I  will  have  a  sum 
mary  redress.  The  Spanish  Consul-General  will  pro 
tect  me  !  "  cried  Guerra,  rising  and  pacing  the  room,  his 
breast  heaving  in  rage. 

Frank  Lorimer  noted  that  the  mestizo  eyed  them 
both,  with  an  intense  anxiety. 

"  The  Spanish  Consul-General  may  himself  have  to 
explain  the  foul  conspiracy  which  led  to  the  brutal  and 
cowardly  murder  of  Felipe  Romero,  Seiior  Guerra," 
cried  Nixon,  with  flashing  eyes. 

"  Do  you  think  that  Juan  Valdes  was  connected  with 
this  robbery  ?  "  raged  the  priest,  who  remarked  that 
Nixon  had  addressed  him  as  '  Senor  '  Guerra. 

"I  am  quite  sure  of  it,"  coldly  said  the  doctor. 
"You  introduced  him  to  the  sick-room,  from  whence 
the  property  was  stolen,  while  Don  Jose  lay  there 
under  your  spiritual  charge  and  presumable  friendship. 
Will  you  produce  the  lad  quietly,  or  shall  we  have  to 
arrest  both  him  and  you  together  ?  " 

"I  defy  you  to  arrest  me.  I  am  a  priest  and  a 
foreigner,  not  subject  to  your  local  laws,"  roared  the 
irate  padre. 

"If  I  lift  a  single  finger,"  said  the  doctor,  "those 
two  men  will  enter,  and  you  will  be  the  first  in  custody. 
Juan  Valdes  we  can  get  when  we  want  to.  He  is  not 
far  away." 

The  shot  told.  Guerra  sank  back  in  his  chair  and 
covered  his  face  with  his  hands.  "  It  is  a  dirty,  low 
conspiracy,"  he  hissed.  "What  has  been  stolen  ?" 

"That  you  will  find  out  soon  enough,"  simply  said 
Nixon.  "  Perhaps  this  man  now  in  irons  in  New  York 
may  be  one  of  your  penitents." 

The  priest  groaned.  "I  can  reveal  nothing,  even  if 
they  should  tell  me  of  misdeeds  in  confession." 

"True,"  answered  Nixon  "But  as  a  man,  as  a 
priest,  as  a  gentleman,  you  can  greatly  aid  in  the 
restoration  of  the  stolen  securities.  Think  it  over  ! 
You  may  as  well  understand  that  you  are  under  grave 
suspicion,  as  well  as  your  scapegrace  nephew.  We 


HIS   CUBAN    SWEETHEART.  137 

have  two  warrants  here  already  sworn  out  ready  for  the 
public  arrest  of  yourself  and  Juan  Valdes.  You  also  will 
have  to  prove  your  innocence  before  you  can  leave 
this  house  free  of  custody." 

Lorimer's  eyes  were  now  flaming  like  blazing  coals 
as»he  backed  Nixon's  words  with  his  resolute  glance. 

"  Go  it,  Jimmy,"  he  whispered.  "The  padre  is  in 
shallow  water." 

Nixon  continued:  "  You  introduced  several  unknown 
Spaniards  here  during  my  short  absence.  That 
poor  orphaned  girl  who  trusted  you  blindly  has 
been  robbed  to  an  enormous  extent.  The  grip  of 
the  law  has  already  nabbed  one  scoundrel  caught 
in  the  act.  Padre  Guerra  !  You  were  respon 
sible  for  that  sick-room.  You  were  the  only  one  who 
had  control  here  for  weeks  unwatched.  It  was  in  that 
time  the  half-crazed  man  was  robbed  and  you  cannot 
go  forth  clean-handed.  If  you  wish  to  save  a  family 
scandal,  if  you  wish  to  save  your  name,  you  will  choose 
your  own  way  to  find  this  criminal.  I  will  tell  you 
for  your  own  information  that  the  property  is 
valueless  to  the  thief,  for  every  banker  of  repute 
has  now  a  list  of  the  stolen  securities.  The  same 
trian  which  takes  Mr.  Lorimer  to  the  city  conveys 
the  ban  k  officials  to  swear  to  the  stolen  goods 
partly  recovered.  Now,  do  you  wish  to  be  on  hand  in 
New  York  to  hear  the  confession  of  the  Spanish 
thief  whom  we  have  locked  up  there  ?  I  will  give 
you  half  an  hour  to  think  this  matter  calmly  over.  I 
am  now  going  into  the  presence  of  your  dead  friend, 
who  was  both  gallant  and  loyal  to  all.  You  have 
seen  his  face  for  the  last  time  if  the  property  is  not 
returned.  When  you  wish  to  speak  to  me  Mr.  Lorimer 
will  call  me  out.  In  the  meantime  one  of  the  consta 
bles  will  take  my  place  here." 

"It's  a  pretty  bold  bluff,  Nixon,"  whispered  Lori 
mer,  as  the  doctor  turned  to  go,  "but  it  will  fetch 
some  kind  of  a  fish.  I  think  you've  touched  him  pretty 
closely  on  Juan." 

The  padre's  lips  twitched  as  the  burly  constable 
entered  at  a  sign  and  seated  himself  in  readiness  in  a 
far  away  corner  of  the  room. 


138  HIS    CUBAN    SWEETHEART. 

Lorimer's  gaze  rested  on  an  evening  journal  before 
him  and  under  it  lay  Nixon's  hammerless  revolver. 

Guerra  marched  up  and  down  the  room,  his  face 
working  in  a  storm  of  silent  emotion.  The  glittering 
black  eyes  turned  on  the  sturdy  constable. 

"  Now  I  wonder  what  monkey  shines  this  fellow  h^s 
really  been  up  to,"  thought  the  village  Dogberry. 

In  the  vexing  torture  of  uncertainty  as  to  who  occu 
pied  the  New  York  prison  cell,  Padre  Guerra's  brain 
was  working  like  lightning.  He  was  pondering  upon 
the  possible  result  of  a  stubborn  silence.  Then  the 
open  disgrace  of  publicity -rose  up  before  him,  backed 
by  the  added  fear  of  substantial  punishment.  If 
Juan  were  only  out  of  the  way,"  the  priest  gnashed 
his  teeth  as  he  pondered.  "  The  boy  is  a  reckless  fool. 
He  may  get  frightened  and  betray  all  he  knows  of  the 
following  of  Felipe.  He  always  was  a  liar!  And  who 
is  in  the  cell?  Is  it  Juan  or — 

The  young  lawyer  was  still  intent  upon  the  journal; 
but  Viciente  Guerra  observed  that  the  constable  never 
took  his  singularly  disturbing  eyes  away  from  him  in 
his  uneasy  march  up  and  down. 

"Dare  I  let  this  sharp  Gringo  go  down  there  alone 
to  New  York?  He  may  use  threats,  or  cajole  the  other 
one.  And  I,  where  would  I  be  then?  Tied  up  here, 
some  other  favorite  of  the  Governor-General  may  be 
put  in  charge  of  Hacienda  Romero." 

In  the  long,  silent  tramp  the  padre  alternated  between 
the  Scylla  of  prison  and  the  Charybdis  of  lost  honor, 
place  and  prestige  at  home,  with  a  final  separation 
from  the  "flesh  pots"  of  the  Romero  family.  Under 
his  breath  he  swore  a  great  oath:  " Madre  de  Dws !  I 
will  find  my  way  yet  to  that  sneaking  doctor's  heart  if 
it  is  the  work  of  long  years."  But  he  dared  not  make 
any  sign  of  wrath  and  he  feared  the  coming  morn 
ing. 

When  Nixon  returned,  it  was  from  the  room  where, 
in  charge  of  Loriiner's  mother  and  sister,  the  despoiled 
heiress  was  sleeping  worn  out  with  the  weight  of  her 
fast-coming  sorrows 

"Poor  child!  I  have  given  her  what  I  cannot  claim 
to-night  for  myself — the  dull.,  inert  sleep  of  forgetful- 


HIS    CUBAN    SWEETHEART.  139 

ness,"  thought  the  doctor,  as  he  walked  in  and  made  a 
significant  sign  to  the  constable. 

He  walked  up  to  Lorimer  and  whispered  in  an  omi 
nously  low  tone.  Then  his  fine  personal  inheritance  of 
a  Celtic  temper  got  the  upper  hand.  He  abruptly  blew 
ouf  two  of  the  four  candles  on  the  table,  and  curtly 
addressed  the  padre : 

"  You  are  now  to  go  only  to  your  room,  sir.  If  you 
wish  to  leave  it  one  of  the  two  men  there  will  go  with 
you  or  call  me.  Now  you  have  lost  your  very  last 
chance.  Mr.  Lorimer  in  the  morning  will  go  alone  to 
New  York  with  his  local  witness  and  you  will  be  re 
moved  by  the  officers  from  this  house  to-morrow.  The 
warrant  will  be  duly  served  on  you  at  daybreak,  and 
Mr.  Lorimer  himself  will  take  an  officer  down  and 
below  in  legal  form.  Have  you  anything  to  say?  " 

Still  the  priest  stood  mute. 

Lorimer  coolly  rose  and  pointed  to  the  hallway. 

The  constable  was  standing  at  the  door,  and  as  Frank 
blew  out  the  two  remaining  lights  the  padre  noted 
the  gleam  of  steel  in  his  hand.  "  Just  in  case  of  acci 
dent,"  said  Lorimer,  significantly.  "This  sleek  hypo 
crite  may  have  himself  lugged  a  knife  around  too,  in 
his  unregenerate  days." 

As  they  neared  the  door  the  entrapped  padre  hesi 
tated  and  gazed  anxiously  at  the  two  young  men,  whose 
faces  were  stony.  There  was  no  compromise  in  their 
set  faces.  He  took  a  single  step  out  into  the  hall 
toward  the  end  of  the  corrider  where  the  further  door 
was  ajar,  the  one  leading  to  the  room  in  which  Gen 
eral  Jose  Romero  slept  on  in  the  calm,  inscrutable 
majesty  of  death. 

As  they  neared  the  room  to  pass  into  Guerra's  own 
sleeping  apartment  he  faltered ;  then  slowly  turned 
and  unwillingly  retraced  his  steps.  The  three  men 
stood  there  under  the  overhanging  light  of  the  silent 
corridor. 

"If  I  should  be  successful  in  forcing  a  return  of  the 
missing  property  would  I  be  perfectly  free  to  leave  with 
an  untarnished  name  for  Cuba?  If  I  should  be  able 
to  use  all  the  powers  of  the  Spanish  colony  and  so 
regain  the  property?  " 


140  HIS    CUBAN    SWEETHEART. 

"Yes!  "  imperiously  answered  both  the  young  men. 

"Then  I  will  go  with  you  to  New  York  and  help," 
faltered  Padre  Guerra. 

"It  was  a  good  bluff,  Nixon,"  said  Frank,  smilingly, 
as  he  pocketed  his  revolver. 

The  birds  were  caroling  merrily  in  the  grove  around 
Villa  Romero  as  Lorimer  and  Nixon  saw  the  sun  rise 
up  over  the  hills.  The  two  friends  had  stolen  out 
together  for  a  council  of  war.  The  doctor's  eyes 
were  haggard  with  watching,  though  he  had  forced  his 
friend  to  rest. 

"You  will  need  all  your  nerve  to  hold  in  the 
wily  padre,  Frank,"  he  said.  "I  can  come  to  town 
this  evening  and  meet  you  at  the  office.  Let  Padre 
Guerra  make  his  headquarters  there.  He  may  remem 
ber  quite  suddenly  some  Spanish  friend  to  whom  Gen- 
sral  Romero  had  intrusted  the  deposit.  You  have 
Cashier  Sheaver  with  you.  Let  him  go  down  and 
identify  the  coupons  and  then  swear  to  the  General's 
ownership.  Let  Padre  Guerra  send  all  the  letters,  mes 
sages  and  telegrams  that  he  wants  to.  Only  do  not 
lose  him  from  sight.  His  own  devilish  ingenuity  will 
suggest  away  to  retreat  in  honor." 

"And  the  funeral  obsequies?"  anxiously  demanded 
Lorimer. 

"Don't  you  see,"  Nixon  replied,  "there  is  yet  a 
chance  to  allow  Padre  Guerra  to  be  present  in  his 
capacity,  for  the  last  rites  will  be  held  at  Poughkeepsie. 
It  will  avert  scandal.  Now  I  shall  rouse  him  up  from 
his  dreams  of  'emeralds, '  and  tell  him  there  is  but  one 
restriction  upon  him,  that  is,  of  remaining  in  your  com 
pany.  That  no  criminal  action  will  be  taken  until  he 
has  exhausted  all  of  his  personal  powers. 

The  priest  was  already  up  and  pacing  his  room  as 
eager  as  a  tiger  cat,  when  Nixon  gravely  informed  him 
of  the  arrangements  of  the  day. 

"Can  I  send  some  telegrams  from  the  village  ?  It 
will  save  time,"  he  said,  gloomily.  "Without  Juan 
nothing  whatever  can  be  done.  He  knows  the  hearts 
of  every  Cuban  in  New  York." 

The  two  Americans  smiled  significantly.  Nixon 
took  up  the  word.  "Write  any  telegrams  or  letters 


HIS   CUBAN    SWEETHEART  141 

that  you  wish.  Mr.  Lorimer  will  send  them  away 
instantly,  so  your  friends  can  meet  you  at  his  office, 
where  they  will  have  every  entertainment  and  due 
respect." 

Padre  Guerra's  jaw  dropped  as  he  stepped  into  the 
road  wagon,  for  the  burly  form  of  the  constable  was 
looming  up  on  the  front  seat  and  his  eye  had  the 
sleeping  watchfulness  of  a  mastiff. 

The  doctor  watched  the  wagon  flash  away  among 
the  trees  and  then  returned  to  his  solitary  place  of 
campaign,  pondering  as  he  paced  the  veranda. 

"  There  is  now  time  for  all.  Time  to  organize  our 
further  search  for  the  emeralds;  time  to  move  on  a 
pressure  for  Inez's  landed  rights;  time  to  build  up,  to 
heal,  to  assuage  the  wounds  of  sorrow  and  fate !  But 
out  of  this  gloomy,  death-haunted  house  the  girl  should 
go  soon,  though  not  a  step  farther  than  the  loving 
welcome  of  Edgecliff. 

"  Trust  all  to  me,  my  child,"  he  said  to  the  orphan  a 
few  minutes  later.  "  If  you  havejost  one  brother  let  me 
feel  that  you  know  you  have  gained  another." 

And  Inez  Romero  smiled  on  him  through  her  falling 
tears. 

Every  hour  until  train  time  the  doctor's  growing 
excitement  burned  in  his  veins.  He  bounded  to  his 
feet  as  a  telegram  was  handed  to  him  at  four  o'clock, 
in  the  drowsy  afternoon. 

"  Juan  here  at  office.  Going  down  for  conference. 
Come  at  once,"  it  read.  The  signature,  "  Abercromby- 
Lorimer, "  told  him  that  Inez's  loyal  friends  were 
fighting  hard  for  her. 

Nixon  counted  the  stations  with  impatience  until 
the  train  rolled  in  at  the  Forty-second  street  station. 
There  Frank  Lorimer  sprang  forward  to  meet  his  com 
ing  friend. 

11  Jump  into  the  coupe,"  said  the  lawyer.  And  they 
rattled  away  to  the  office. 

"I  have  a  strange  story  to  tell  you,"  remarked 
Lorimer,  when  the  cab  swung  up  to  the  office  entrance. 
"  Come  over  here  for  a  minute  with  me  to  Mulholland's. 
The  detective  captain  is  over  there." 

Striding  across  the  street  the  two  friends  entered  a 


142  HIS    CUBAN    SWEETHEART. 

little  card  room  where  many  a  conference  of  vast  per 
sonal  importance  had  been  quietly  held.  For  sport, 
politician,  racing  man,  swell-nob  criminal,  the 
''fancy,"  the  green  goods  man,  and  many  another 
ingenious  rascal  had  often  whispered  their  secrets  over 
Mulholland's  doubtful  nectar.  A  little  side-door  was 
there  through  which  pretty  feet  had  often  lightly 
tripped,  some  timid  and  shy,  some  faltering,  some 
eager,  but  all  on  the  downward  path. 

"Now,  my  boy,  here's  the  whole  story  in  a  nutshell. 
Juan  shot  in  as  swiftly  as  a  shark  when  we  arrived,"  be 
gan  Lorimer  as  he  lit  a  cigar.  "  I'll  be  brief,  for  I  want 
you  to  have  the  detective's  advice  at  once.  Guerra 
sent  four  telegrams  in  Spanish  from  the  station  and  I 
paid  for  them.  Arrived  here,  Juan  and  the  padre  were 
closeted  ten  minutes  alone  in  your  consultation  room, 
where  I  had  made  him  comfortable,  and  ordered  them 
a  nice  breakfast.  At  last  the  priest  opened  the  door. 
'  Juan  needs  a  smart  cabman.  He  can  be  of  use. 
Can  he  pass  freely  and  not  be  followed  ? '  '  On 
my  honor,'  I  replied,  astonished  to  find  that  the  priest 
could  muster  up  a  pretty  fair  English.  By  noon  two 
or  three  dark-faced  foreign  fellows  looking  like  pictures 
from  cigar-box  labels  lounged  in  and  had  a  long  con 
clave  with  the  padre.  I  sent  Abercromby  down  for 
the  detective  captain,  who  came  up  and  played 
'patient.'  I  refrained  from  any  sign  of  anxiety  and 
handed  in  without  a  word  several  letters  and  telegrams 
which  soon  arrived  for  my  brown-faced  prisoner.  I 
was  beginning  to  feel  like  poking  Guerra  up  when 
Hogan,  the  detective,  stopped  me.  '  You  have 
frightened  that'  chap  already — all  that  you  can.  Let 
him  frighten  himself  now  a  little.  He  will  show  his 
hand  very  soon.  The  prettiest  little  affairs  of  this  kind 
are  often  spoiled  by  haste.  He  has  only  sent  this  boy 
out  as  a  ruse.  That  coffee-colored  rascal  knows  already 
just  v;hat  he  means  to  do  and  how  to  do  it.'  At  two 
o'clock  Juan  came  tumbling  in,  all  eagerness.  '  Now 
you'll  see  the  fox's  tail,'  remarked  Hogan  quietly.  It 
was  true.  In  ten  minutes  the  padre  sent  the  boy  out 
for  me.  I  entered.  '  Can  one  of  my  friends  see  the 
prisoner,  who  is  now  locked  up  alone,  and  bear  him  a 


HIS    CUBAN    SWEETHEART.  143 

message  from  me,  coming  back  here  freely  and  report 
ing  to  me  ? ' 

"I  quickly  said,  'Yes,  he  can!' 

"  'Then  I  will  send  him  down  at  once,'  resolutely 
answered  Guerra.  In  five  minutes  Hogan  and  a  Span 
iard —  name  to  me  unknown — were  speeding  away 
downtown  on  the  elevated.  Juan  ran  in  and  out  from 
time  to  time  until  five  o'clock.  Then  Hogan  returned, 
smiling,  and  whispered:  'There  has  been  a  battle 
royal  down  there  in  the  cell,  Lorimer.  Mind  your  eye. 
There'll  be  news  for  you  now." 

"  I  waited  breathlessly  and  gave  the  constable  orders 
to  detain  Juan  on  some  pretext,  while  I  conferred  with 
the  priest.  Guerra  came  to  the  door  at  last.  '  I  wish 
to  see  you  alone  first,'  he  said.  '  Then  you  can  have 
an  interpreter  or  official  if  you  wish  to.' 

"  We  cleared  the  room  at  once.  '  It  is  a  very  strange 
story  of  adventure,'  sullenly  muttered  the  priest.  '  I 
cannot  tell  you  all,  but  I  may  hope  to  return  the  miss 
ing  securities  to-night  if  you  will  agree  to  three  condi 
tions.' 

"  '  Name  them,'  I  said. 

"  '  FIRST,  the  man  paid  four  hundred  dollars  for  the 
coupons  he  bought.  Twenty  per  cent,  off  their  face. 
He  wants  that  money  and  his  freedom.' 

"  '  NEXT,  I  and  Juan  are  free  to  go  away  in  peace 
and  honor  and  also  to  attend  the  funeral  of  General 
Romero  as  friends  only. 

"  'LAST,  if  you  and  the  doctor  are  under  the  drive 
way  of  the  Fourteenth  Street  Theater  at  twelve  o'clock 
to-night,  a  man  will  there  deliver  to  you  the  missing 
articles  provided  he  is  free  to  go  and  you  swear  that 
he  shall  not  be  watched.  How  I  alone  can  do  this  ! 
How  I  do  it — is  my  business — as  a  churchman,'  con 
cluded  Guerra.  That's  where  we  stand  now." 

Lorimer  ceased  and  then  gazed  at  his  friend, 
"  What  do  you  say  to  it,  Jimmy  ?  I  told  him  to  wait 
till  you  arrived  for  an  answer.  I  did  this  on  Hogan's 
advice  so  as  not  to  appear  too  eager." 

"  Let  us  at  once  call  in  the  captain,"  answered 
Nixon. 

The  rosy-faced  detective  had  been  "swapping  lies  " 


144  HIS    CUBAN    SWEETHEART. 

with  his  friend  Mulholland.  The  affair  was  laid  before 
him. 

"Gentlemen,"  said  he,  "the  padre  controls  these 
things,  and  you  have  only  frightened  him  by  persuad 
ing  him  that  he  could  not  negotiate  them  safely  in 
any  respectable  foreign  market.  The  seizing  of  the 
coupons  proved  this.  Object  lessons  are  the  very 
best.  Now  there's  a  devil  of  a  nest  of  Spaniards  and 
Cubans  all  around  Sixth  avenue  and  Fourteenth  street. 
This  rascal  must  have  stacked  these  things  away  for 
safe  keeping  in  that  funny  colony,  where  they  could 
be  easily  handed  from  one  to  another  in  case  of  a 
search.  Better  agree  to  his  terms — pacify  him — let 
him  go  to  a  hotel  alone.  I'll  have  his  royal 
nibs  shadowed — he  won't  getaway!  Let  the  boy  go 
too.  You  show  up  there  under  the  old  theater  lobby 
at  the  indicated  hour.  Better  go  well  heeled.  I  can 
give  you  a  'gun  '  if  you  don't  carry  one,  "and  he  tossed 
a  Colt's  police  pistol,  caliber  41,  on  the  table.  I'll  be 
near  you  over  at  Andy  Phillips's  on  the  avenue.  We 
can  soon  look  at  the  bonds.  If  they  are  all  O.  K., 
then  you  had  better  let  the  whole  lot  drift.  So  skip 
over  and  tell  this  sly  dago  that  it's  a  go.  You  can't 
do  better." 

Seated  at  the  table  in  the  consultation  room,  Padre 
Guerra  awaited  the  friends'  final  decision  with  some 
anxiety.  His  dark  eyes  were  now  quite  sunken  and 
haggard.  A  couple  of  his  compatriots  loungingly  curled 
•up  in  corners  glowered  at  Nixon's  skulls  and  unin 
viting  medical  pictures  as  they  smoked  ceaseless  cigar 
ettes. 

The  doctor  bowed  gravely  on  entering. 

"We  accept  your  proposition,  Padre  Guerra,"  he 
said  courteously,  "  and  if  you  will  name  any  convenient 
hotel  we  will  send  Juan  and  yourself  down  there  at 
once  in  a  carriage." 

Captain  Hogan  was  a  silent  party  to  the  interview. 

"I  will  go  away  with  my  friends, "  answered  the 
sullen  Cuban,  "  and  leave  you  the  address.  You  can 
send  a  messenger  there  to  tell  me  that  all  is  well.  I 
am  wearied  and  would  rest. " 

"  Certainly,"  said  both  young  men  in  a  breath. 


HIS   CUBAN    SWEETHEART.  145 

"Then  there  is  nothing  else  required  of  me.  I  will 
return  to  the  villa  to-morrow  evening,  and  remain  until 
the  funeral  ;  that  sad  duty  over,  I  will  depart  at  once 
for  Cuba." 

There  was  an  awkward  silence  as  the  party  prepared 
to  depart.  Nixon  and  Lorimer  exchanged  anxious 
glances  with  Hogan,  who  nodded  affably. 

"  You  need  have  no  fear  of  the  failure  of  the  delivery 
of  the  articles, "  said  Guerra  with  a  cold  dignity.  ' '  They 
are  all  intact,  and  these  gentlemen  are  my  witness 
that  I  now  guaranteee  their  return." 

The  ring  of  perfect  confidence  was  in  his  voice.  One 
of  the  Cubans  presented  a  card,  and  politely  remarked  : 
"  My  house  will  be  the  home  of  El  Senor  Padre  Guerra, 
while  he  honors  it." 

"  One  moment,"  suddenly  questioned  Nixon.  "  How 
will  the  person  know  to  whom  to  deliver  the  bonds  ?  " 

"  Juan  here  will  accompany  the  messenger,"  coldly 
said  the  priest.  "The  bearer  isafftranger  to  you  both, 
but  Juan  will  identify  you.  One  of  you  can  remain 
behind  with  him  and  the  messenger  while  the  other 
examines  the  missing  articles." 

"It's  a  mighty  good  job,"  remarked  Hogan  to  Doctor 
Abercromby  in  the  outer  office  as  the  delegation  of 
Cubans  filed  away.  "But,  Doctor,  for  God's  sake 
make  your  friends  very  careful.  I  caught  the  flash  of 
that  padre's  eye  as  he  passed  me.  He  will  '  turn  one 
of  these  young  fellows  down '  in  a  minute,  if  he  can 
ever  see  his  way  to  it.  He's  a  snake,  that  fellow  !  " 

"  Thanks  for  your  warning,  Captain,"  warmly  said 
Abercromby.  "  Sheaver  and  myself  will  not  be  far  off. 
We'll  take  post  across  the  street."  I 

"  If  it  was  gold  coin  or  '  good  green  boodle,'"  added  [ 
the  detective,  "you  would  not  have  had  such  an  easy 
time,  but  the  sly  devil  is  surely  plaving  some  waiting 
game.  He  has  things  in  view.  Look  out,  and  never 
trust  him  behind  you.  Years  do  not  cool  a  Cuban's 
revenge.  I'll  be  in  at  Phillips's  waiting  for  you  till  two 
o'clock." 

Only  a  few  belated  strollers  lingered  around  the  old 
theater  as  the  bells  beat  out  midnight.  Lorimer  and 
Nixon  scarce  noted  the  queer  human  driftwood  of  mid- 


146  HIS    CUBAN    SWEETHEART. 

night  New  York  as  it  floated  by.  Bold-eyed  wom^n, 
staggering  roysterers,  keen-eyed  landsharks,  belated 
Jerseymen,  laughing  theater  parties,  and  the  homeless, 
wandering  poor  passed  in  a  strange  review.  Now  and 
then  a  well-dressed  citizen  went  lounging  along  in  that 
air  of  bien  etre  which  marks  the  man  who  is  well  fixed  in 
Gotham. 

"There  is  some  break,"  muttered  Lorimer  as  their 
watches  both  showed  ten  minutes  after  midnight.  The 
speech  was  interrupted  by  a  sharp  whistle  ficm  Aber- 
cromby. 

Out  of  a  little  polyglot  eating  house,  drinking  saloon 
and  billiard  room  opposite,  two  men  made  their  way 
swiftly  toward  them. 

Both  the  young  men  were  on  the  alert.  It  was  easy 
to  recognize  Juan's  slouching  form,  and  yet  he  spoke 
not  a  single  word  to  them  but  only  mumbled  some  di 
rections  to  a  middle-aged  man  who  bore  an  ordinary 
gripsack  in  his  left  fcand. 

"  Come  you — ovar  hear — to  el  saloon,  I  will  count 
ovar  the  property  to  you/'  said  the  man  quite  coolly  in 
broken  English. 

The  young  men  followed  the  two  foreigners. 
Abercromby  and  Shearer  quietly  entered  the  place 
also.  A  promiscuous  crowd  of  loungers  filled  the  place, 
but  in  a  little  reading  room  Shearer  carefully  checked 
off  the  bonds  by  number  from  his  list,  and  examined 
the  coupon  sheets.  From  a  duplicate  list  Doctor 
Abercromby  verified  the  tally. 

"They  are  all  here, "  repeated  both  the  examiners 
as  the  sullen-faced  bearer  of  the  returned  fortune 
calmly  rolled  up  a  cigarette. 

"It  is  right — all  right,"  said  Nixon.  "Will  you 
have  a  note  from  us  to  Padre  Guerra  ?  " 

"Nothing  !  "  roughly  said  Juan.  "  Only  you  are  all 
to  stay  here  five  minutes  and  give  the  man  a  chance  to 
go  home." 

The  four  Americans  bowed,  and  the  two  Cubans  lefx 
without  a  word  or  sign. 

"This  is  a  very  strange  proceeding,"  muttered 
the  doctor.  "Let  us  call  a  carriage  at  once  and  get 
down  to  the  Fifth  Avenue  Hotel  with  this." 


HIS    CUBAN    SWEETHEART  147    . 

"Briskly  !  "  said  Lorimer. 

Two  of  the  party  carried  drawn  revolvers  at  their 
sides  as  the  four  friends  in  a  body  walked  out  into  the 
street  and  hailed  the  first  passing  carriage.  At  Twenty- 
third  street  Lorimer  leaped  out  and  sent  the  agreed  on 
telegrams  to  the  padre  and  Captain  Hogan. 

Before  the  friends  separated  for  the  night,  Aber- 
cromby  said  earnestly:  "  If  I  did  not  have  this  clear- 
ing-up  work  to  do  down  here  I  would  go  back  with 
you.  For,  mark  me,  the  padre  will  soon  strike  back 
at  you  in  some  way.  And  he  may  know  more  of  your 
secret  expedition  than  you  would  easily  credit." 

"  I  shall  have  Hogan  '  pipe  him  off  '  on  the  Havana 
steamer,  as  well  as  that  young  rattlesnake  nephew  of  his, " 
answered  Nixon.  "  For  the  only  hope  I  have  that  he 
will  not  be  dangerous  in  future  lies  in  his  fancy  that 
he  may  get  in  ahead  of  us  yet  and  so  discover  the  long- 
sought  family  inheritance  of  woe — those  wretched 
emeralds." 

The  next  day,  in  Fishkill,  after  depositing  the  re 
covered  bonds  in  the  bank,  a  sudden  thought  flew 
through  Lorimer.  "See  here,  Nixon,"  he  said,  "the 
funeral  will  not  occur  for  three  days.  Let  us  with 
your  mother  and  sister  take  Inez  to  New  York.  To 
morrow  morning  let  you  and  I  drive  down  from  the 
Fifth  Avenue  and  induce  Miss  Romero  to  open  the 
case  at  once.  It  may  be  that  there  are  reasons  in  it 
why  we  should  watch  this  priest  and  his  nephew  on 
their  homeward  trip.  The  chance  is  a  golden  one  and 
must  not  be  lost." 

"You  are  right, "  returned  his  chum.  "I  had  not 
realized  that  we  lose  sight  of  the  conspirator  and 
his  troublesome  body  guard  when  they  leave  Villa 
Romero.  There  might  be  something  in  the  recovered 
papers  which  demands  our  immediate  action." 

''  Moreover,"  continued  Lorimer,  "the  need  of  the 
young  lady  for  the  ghastly  uniform  of  public  sorrow 
will  explain,  my  mother  and  sister  going  with  her.  Spread 
the  report  that  we  have  gone  down  to  make  the  final 
funeral  arrangements." 

Seated  in  a  private  room  of  the  Broadway  Sate 
Deposit  Company  next  day,  as  Trinity  Church  bells 


148  HIS    CUBAN    SWEETHEART. 

chimed  the  noon,  Frank  Lorimer's  face  was  awed  and 
very  grave  as  Inez  Romero,  with  .  a  shudder, 
approached  the  case  lying  before  her  on  the  table. 
The  slender  girl's  hands  trembled  as  she  touched  the 
leaden  box.  Its  bands  were  twisted  leathern  straps, 
which  were  riveted  to  the  box  and  twined  together 
with  a  cumbrous  impression  of  an  indistinguishable 
seal. 

Inez  raised  her  dark  eyes  to  Nixon.  "Will  you  not 
open  it?  "  she  asked. 

"  I  beg  of  you,"  said  the  doctor.  "  It  must  be  your 
hand  alone.  No  other's.  I  will  sever  the  straps  with 
my  knife,  but  you  must  open  it." 

There  was  a  hush  of  intense  excitement  as  the  young 
man  finally  loosened  the  time-stained  cover  of  the  case. 

In  a  few  moments,  her  eyes  shadowed  with  tears,  Inez 
Romero  drew  forth  a  packet  wrapped  in  waxed  and 
yellowed  linen.  Her  slender  fingers  trembled  as  she 
unrolled  the  damp  coverings.  A  roll  of  parchment 
lay  before  her.  Handing  it  to  Nixon  she  faltered. 
"Read  it,  I  cannot.  Poor  Felipe!" 

As  Lorimer  calmed  her  burst  of  sorrow  the  doctor 
examined. 

Suddenly  his  face  grew  ashen  pale.  He  had  turned 
the  leaves  down  where  a  rude  map  was  pictured. 
Then  he  whispered:  "Let  the  priest  go  forth!  He 
cannot  harm  us.  My  God !  It  is  a  strange,  strange 
story.  Can  it  be  true?  " 


HIS    CUBAN    SWEETHEART.  149 


CHAPTER  X. 

THE    BALL    FROM    THE    HAMMERLESS  REVOLVER. 

"  WHAT  do  you  propose  to  do?  Will  you  remove 
the  papers  ?  "  demanded  Frank  Lorimer,  in  breathless 
excitement.  "  Do  you  think  there  is  a  treasure  really 
awaiting  this  child  of  so  many  sorrows  ?"  The  young 
man's  eyes  rested  tenderly  on  Inez. 

"There  has  been  a  treasure !"  solemnly  replied  Nixon. 
"  When  we  have  devised  a  plan  of  safely  guarding  this 
girl  from  that  rascal  Guerra's  wiles,  you  and  I  have  a 
long  quest,  before  us." 

"By  Heaven!  you  shall  not  go  down  to  Cuba. 
Death  awaits  you  there  !"  cried  Lorimer.  "  You  would 
embarrass  the  State  Department  and  ruin  Inez's  chance 
of  recovering  the  estates.  You  are  known  there  to 
everyone  now." 

"It  is  in  the  mainland,"  answered  the  doctor,  "  if 
some  convulsion  of  nature  or  the  hand  of  man  has  not 
already  swept  it  away  from  us — the  shadowy  legacy  of 
an  old  crime.  These  papers  must  not  rest  here.  Now, 
Frank,  Inez  and  I  will  copy  alternately  sheets  of  the 
four  leaves  of  this  last  document.  We  can  study  it  at 
home  to-night.  This  map  I  will  trace  and  deposit 
in  a  third  safe  place.  No  stranger  could  ever  use  this 
divided  story,  and,  without  the  map,  there  would  be 
still  a  seal  upon  the  secret." 

"  How  long  will  you  be  busied  ?"  asked  the  lawyer. 

"An  hour!"  Then  he  whispered  "It  will  also 
distract  her  mind. " 

There  are  always  writing  materials  in  a  safe  deposit 
office. 

"  I  will  go  over  to  the  police  headquarters  and  see 
that  all  is  hushed  up  there,  as  to  the  strange  wander 
ing  of  those  bonds,"  said  Frank.  "Don't  you  leave 
Inez  here  alone  !  "  he  added  in  an  aside  to  the  doctor. 

"Go  ahead.  I'll  wait  here,"  was  the  response. 
"But  it  is  prudent  we  should  never  come  here  again 


150  HIS    CUDAN    SWEETHEART. 

together.  I  will  introduce  Inez  to  the  manager;  she 
had  better  deposit  her  bonds  here.  I  have  been  think 
ing  also, "  he  continued,  "  that  it  would  be  a  good  idea 
if  your  mother  and  sister  would  go  abroad  with  Inez 
for  a  time.  She  would  be  safe  in  Europe  from  Guerra, 
and  we  two  must  go  down  to  the  tropics  together." 

"But  I  would  not  see  her  then  for  months,"  doubt 
fully  remarked  Lorimer. 

Nixon  smiled.  "You  will  see  a  great  deal  of  her 
later,  I  fancy.  Go  along,  Frank.  Your  time  is  not 
yet  come,  my  young  Romeo.  The  myrtle  and  cypress 
do  not  bloom  together.  Earn  first  the  right  to  her 
devotion  and  gratitude,  and  then — love." 

"  You  speak  as  if  Cupid  had  his  grip  on  you  also, 
professor,"  murmured  the  blinded  Lorimer  as  he 
walked  away. 

A  strange  blindness!  Of  all  human  beings  in  the 
world  made  for  love's  soft  alarms,  Frank  Lorimer 
ignored  his  sister  Ethel.  In  many  comprehensive 
ways  he  dismissed  her  from  his  mind  with  that  sweep 
ing  brotherly  remark:  "  Ethel's  a  good  girl!  " 

Her  many  perfections  were  not  only  manifest  to 
Doctor  Nixon,  but  his  "cardiac  d  sturbance ''  was 
slowly  but  surely  undermining  his  whole  system. 

While  Inez  bent  her  beautifnl  face  down  over  the  quaint 
parchment,  Nixon's  flying  fingers  soon  achieved  his  por 
tion  of  the  task ;  then  with  careful  attention  he  copied 
every  mark  of  the  quaint  old  diagram  appended  to  the 
parchment. 

"  Half  of  this  in  the  bank  vault  at  Fishkill,  the 
other  half  in  Poughkeepsie,  no  one  can  ever  trace  out 
the  story.  And  by  the  time  it  goes  there  I  will  have 
learned  it  by  heart." 

When  Lorimer  returned,  the  steel  maw  of  the  great 
vaults  had  swallowed  up  the  original  of  the  copy  which 
was  now  quickly  divided  between  the  two  men. 

It  was  ten  o'clock*before  the  fatigued  party  reached 
Edgecliff.  Closeted  with  Nixon,  Lorimer  promptly 
said: 

"  Now  get  out  those  papers  quickly,  for  I  must  know 
all  their  contents  before  Padre  Guerra  starts  for  New 
York." 


HIS   CUBAN    SWEETHEART.  15! 

As  Nixon  spread  out  the  documents  copied  from 
Fernando  Aguilar's  narrative,  he  said  meditatively: 
"  Get  me  a  large  atlas,  Frank,  and  I  will  see  if  the 
map  conforms  with  any  coast  line  that  we  can  find.  This 
whole  thing  reads  like  a  wild  brain  fantasy." 

The  house  was  stilled,  the  doors  of  the  room  locked, 
as  Nixon  began  the  reading  of  the  paper. 

"  Don't  make  a  single  mark,  scratch  or  memoran 
dum,"  he  sternly  said.  "  You  and  I  must  carry  this 
burden  in  our  heads.  It  must  not  be  said  that  in 
our  own  eager  foolishness  we  have  betrayed  the 
orphaned  heiress  of  the  past.  Should  we  go  on  this 
quest  there  must  be  nothing  to  mark  our  object  save 
the  sketch  in  some  divided  form.  Now  listen!  "and 
he  read  with  intense  earnestness  the  last  message  from 
beyond  the  grave — the  words  of  Fernando  Aguilar  de 
Romero: 

To  THE  SAME  HANDS  ! 

Feast  of  St.  Jago,  A.D.  1685. 

Beneath  la  puerta  mayor,  of  Los  Olmos,  I  leave 
this  record  for  the  one  to  whom  God  wills  it.  If  it  so 
be  that  the  last  of  my  line — an  innocent  woman — read 
it,  then  God  will  have  found  out  the  way. 

The  thieving  and  rioting  at  Jamaica  of  the  unsuc 
cessful  buccaneers  who  were  separated  from  us  and 
defeated  at  Cornmana,  near  Caraccas,  caused  all  the 
victors  of  Maracaibo  to  be  closely  spied  upon.  The  cor 
sair  Morgan  was  long  busied  with  organizing  his 
descent  upon  Panama.  Now,  by  the  laws  of  the  broth 
erhood,  if  we,  "the  eight,  "had  been  found  to  have  that 
which  we  carried  we  would  have  been  slain  at  once 
by  Morgan  as  thieving  from  the  common  booty,  or  else 
murdered  by  the  hungry  comrades  who  came  back 
bootless  from  Commana.  The  island  of  Jamaica  was 
then  a  hell  upon  earth,  for  there  were  seventeen  sail  of 
freebooters  refitting  there. 

All  the  devils  of  the  Spanish  Main  were  now  flocking 
to  the  south  side  of  Tortuga  to  join  in  the  coming  sack 
of  Panama.  We  had  all  sworn  a  fearful  pact  to  stay 
together,  and  each  man  had  signed  it  with  his  blood, 
the  round  ring  oath,  "  Death  to  the  Traitor  !  " 


152  HIS   CUBAN    SWEETHEART. 

We  eight  had  a  little  camp  of  our  own  apart. 
The  wenching,  gaming  and  drinking  were  bringing 
men  to  the  sword  daily.  We  buried  that  we  had  in  the 
sands  under  our  tent,  making  pretense  of  fishing  and 
fowling  at  the  seashore  to  live  alone. 

Now  we  had  hoarded  up  carefully  our  share  of  the 
spoil  as  divided,  nigh  four  hundred  pieces  of  eight  per 
man.  After  a  long  study  we  bought  a  Carib  canoe 
nigh  to  forty  feet  long,  and  secretly  laded  her  with 
good  supply  of  provision  and  water. 

Then  taking  all  our  arms  and  a  plentiful  store  of 
powder  and  ball  we  set  sail  secretly  in  the  night  for 
Grand  Cayman  Island.  One  of  the  other  seven  knew  well 
that  haunt,  and  from  there  we  hoped  to  join  some  fresh 
crews  of  buccaneers  who  knew  not  of  our  serving  with 
the  fiend  Morgan  at  Maracaibo.  It  was  agreed  on  by 
all,  that  each  man  might  divide  out  his  due  share  of 
the  plunder  and  shift  for  himself  if  we  arrived  safely  at 
Grand  Cayman. 

"On  the  fourth  day  we  sighted  the  Grand  Cayman 
and  a  Carib  canoe  told  us  of  four  Spanish  men-of-war 
there  waiting  to  join  others  from  Havana,  designing  to 
Attack  Morgan's  fleet.  Our  two  Carib  boatmen  con- 
'versed  in  the  tongue  of  these  natives,  and  the  fisher 
canoe  piloted  us  ashore  to  where  we  might  find  fresh 
water.  In  the  night  we  counseled  and  decided  to 
push  forth  to  some  islands  in  the  Bay  of  Honduras, 
our  nearest  refuge.  For  we  would  have  perforce  been 
all  hung  in  chains  if  the  Spaniards  should  unhappily 
find  us  out. 

On  the  fifth  day  after,  sighting  three  contiguous 
islands  of  great  beauty  and  resting  on  the  central  one 
(note  its  peculiar  form  on  my  chart)  we  were  overtaken 
by  a  tornado,  and  with  much  skill  our  natives  weath 
ered  the  storm.  We  were  fain  to  depend  on  our  Caribs, 
who  told  us  the  main  land  of  Honduras  was  but  one 
day's  sail  away. 

When  at  last  we  reached  the  main  shore,  I  found  out 
my  companions'  real  design,  which  was  to  march  over 
the  path  of  Cortex's  army  into  the  mountains  of  Salva 
dor,  and  there  on  a  native  vessel  get  down  to  Panama, 
in  which  great  city  they  hoped  to  be  free  to  sell  their 


HIS   CUBAN    SWEETHEART.  153 

booty  to  the  merchants  of  that  vastly  rich  place,  for 
they  were  not  minded  to  believe  that  even  Morgan 
dared  to  attack  it.  Coming  from  the  South  Sea  coast, 
they  were  sure  not  to  be  taken  lor  any  of  Morgan's 
men. 

Our  canoe  and  stores  of  goods,  which  we  could  not 
carry,  we  gave  to  the  friendly  Caribs,  who  brought  to 
us  four  natives  of  Terra  Firma  to  pilot  us  up  the  great 
Aguan.  I  was  the  weakest  of  the  band,  for  my  wound 
opened  again,  and  my  gun  and  powder  and  ball  were  at 
last  taken  from  me  and  given  to  one  of  the  Indians. 
These  poor  natives  also  carried  the  stolen  booty  of  the 
altar  in  four  bags  of  rawhide,  which  we  had  made  at  the 
island,  with  straps  for  binding  them  on  the  back. 

Twelve  days'  terrible  march  from  the  shore  near  Omoa 
brought. us  over  the  high  ridge,  through  a  great  forest 
with  store  of  monkeys,  river-cows  and  tigers,  out  to  the 
Aguan  River.  We  crossed  another  high  Cordillera,  and 
at  last  found  an  Indian  village  where  the  Mangalile 
River  joins  the  Aguan.  I  was  nigh  unto  death,  and 
yet  I  dared  not  to  fall  back,  lest  my  companions  slay 
me,  for  they  were  all  black-hearted  villains. 

Three  days'  march  from  the  village,  going  up  the 
Mangalile,  we  came  to  a  great  narrow,  deep  gorge, 
where  the  river  maketh  a  sharp  bend  coming  from  the 
west  to  the  south.  The  walls  of  the  chasm  are  high 
and  dizzy,  and  on  the  north  bank  the  trail  for  ten 
leagues  is  called  Los  Disparainadcs,  and  there  Captain- 
(ieneral  Cortez  lost  a  third  of  his  army  while  wandering 
over  the  fearful  precipices. 

As  we  marched  around  the  great  point,  like  unto  the 
nose  of  a  man,  and  projecting  northeast  from  the 
southwest,  my  companions  were  well  in  advance,  and 
i  toiling  feebly  on  after  the  four  Indian  bearers. 

A  great  band  of  savages  with  spears  and  bows  and 
arrows  suddenly  rose  out  of  the  rocks  and  poured 
down  from  the  gorges.  At  the  first  sound  of  our  arque 
buses  the  four  bearers  cast  down  their  burdens  and  fled 
into  the  thicket.  They  were  not  seen  of  the  savages. 

Being  without  my  arms  I  ran  into  the  rocks  and 
quickly  made  shift  to  hide  myself.  The  Blessed  Virgin 
led  me  to  the  mouth  of  a  cave  or  old  tunnel  where 


154  HIS    CUI3AN    SWEETHEART. 

the  river  in  its  flood  had  washed  a  great  hole  under 
the  point  which  I  have  described.  It  is  a  vast, 
curious  causeway  going  under  the  whole  point,  and 
about  ten  feet  above  the  line  of  the  waters. 

I  hearkened  to  but  a  few  discharges  of  the  match 
locks  and  then  all  was  over.  The  triumphant  yells  of 
the  savages  told  me  of  the  capture  or  killing  of  my 
companions.  Hidden  in  this  hole  or  cave  I  laid  until 
the  next  morning,  daring  not  to  venture  forth.  I  was 
fain  at  last  to  crawl  out  to  see  if  I  could  find  some  of 
the  fruits  of  the  forest.  I  spied  around  closely;  hear 
ing  no  sounds  whatever  of  man,  though  the  forest  was 
filled  with  the  cries  of  the  birds  and  wild  animals.  I 
wandered  up  the  gorge  toward  the  place  of  the  attack; 
there  I  found  the  remains  of  seven  great  fires.  The 
ground  was  trampled  around  seven  huge  trees ;  from 
the  half  charred  bones  I  discovered  these  wild  savages 
had  burned  the  prisoners,  dead  or  alive.  There  was 
nothing  left  else.  They  had  departed  and  carried 
all  the  plunder  away. 

I  made  haste  to  hide  in  my  cavej  after  drinking  and 
finding  some  plantains  and  bananas.  There  was  no 
sign  of  the  four  poor  natives  who  had  fled,  and  I  found 
all  their  burdens  lying  where  they  had  cast  them  away. 
I  dragged  the  four  sacks  of  hide  into  the  tunnel,  which 
I  found  to  be  nigh  unto  a  hundred  paces  long  and 
washed  out  of  the  softer  earth  and  rock  between  the 
harder  places. 

Long  did  I  wonfler  there  what  I  might  do  with  the 
useless  treasures.  I  feared  to  bring  any  away  lest  I 
should  be  murdered,  for  I  was  sore,  spentand  sickened. 
I  designed  to  bind  two  or  three  logs  of  driftwood 
together  and  float  down  the  river  to  the  friendly  village. 

At  last  I  bethought  me;  with  my  hunting  knife 
and  pointed  stakes  that  I  cut  I  digged  out  a  great  hole 
in  the  bottom  of  the  tunnel  midway  between  the  ends 
and  paved  this  hole  with  flat  stones  and  made  a  wall  of 
stones  around  it.  Then  covering  the  four  sacks  there 
I  built  over  the  top  a  floor  of  strong  stones  of  all 
shapes  so  as  to  hold  the  whole  mass  in  and  scraped 
sand  and  gravel  over  it,  filling  the  whole  solid.  Then 
I  made  haste  to  find  me  logs  of  wood,  which  I  bound 


HIS    CUBAN    SWEETHEART.  155 

together  with  vines  and  withes,  with  a  long  pole  cut  to 
guide  me.  I  embarked,  sitting  across  this  little  raft. 

In  two  days,  floating  by  day  and  hiding  by  night,  I  at 
last  reached  the  Indian  village.  There,  being  sick  and 
alone  and  unarmed,  I  was  seized  upon  and  made  a 
slave.  For  five  long  years  did  I  labor  as  a  dog 
harassed  by  these  Indians. 

At  last,  hiding  a  store  of  dried  plantains  and  maize, 
I  stole  a  canoe  and  after  five  days  of  terrible  suffer 
ings  I  found  the  sea  near  Truxillo.  Wandering  half 
naked  along  the  beach,  I  was  discovered  and  brought 
into  the  Spanish  garrison.  I  was  like  unto  a  human 
beast.  A  kind-hearted  friar  got  me  the  boon  of  a  pass 
age  to  Vera  Cruz  on  a  galleon  passing  up  for  the  King's 
plate. 

I  feared  to  open  my  mouth  lest  I  betray  myself. 
When  I  was  landed  at  Vera  Cruz  even  Don  Alarco  de 
Guzman  would  not  credit  me.  It  was  only  the 
sound  of  my  voice  which  brought  my  beloved  spouse 
to  my  side. 

I  dared  not  tell  the  story  of  my  crimes  against  the 
Church,  of  my  raising  my  sword  against  my  King! 

My  treasure  was  lost  to  me  forever! 

Wondrous !  All  the  scheme  of  crime  was  woven  in 
vain.  The  blood  all  shed  for  naught. 

No  man  may  now  venture  in  the  valley  of  the  Aguan 
or  Mangalile  and  hope  to  come  forth  alive  from  the  wild 
Indians.  The  treasure  is  abandoned  there.  I  make 
this  relation  as  God  wills  that  the  truth  should  be 
finally  known.  The  four  bags  lie  there  in  the  stone 
bulkhead  or  casing  which  I  builded  in  behind  a  huge 
rock  of  black  stone  which  bears  half  way  across  the 
tunnel.  It  would  break  the  force  of  any  water  rush 
ing  through. 

There  is  no  mistaking  of  the  place,  for  the  south 
bank  of  the  Mangalile  followed  up  from  its  junction 
with  the  Aguan  will  surely  bring  one  to  the  great  nose 
or  mountain,  with  the  curious  tunnel  washed  through 
its  point. 

Mindful  of  my  past  sufferings  and  of  my  awful  pun 
ishment  at  the  hand  of  the  great  God,  I  leave  this  secret 
now  to  the  trust  of  Providence. 


156  HIS    CUBAN    SWEETHEART. 

In  God's  name,  so  be  it  !  The  Blessed  Virgin  may 
direct  what  innocent  hand  may  find  the  useless  treas 
ures  which  are  buried  as  related. 

Sea por  Dios y  la  Santissiina  Virgen.' 

FERNANDO  AGUILAR  DE  ROMERO. 

Frank  Lorimer  reached  forward  and  gazed  at  the 
rudely  sketched  map  which  marked  the  wanderings  of 
the  poor  victim  of  the  Spanish  Governor's  insult.  "  It 
seems  almost  incredible,  Nixon,"  he  said.  "To-night 
we  will  divide  and  lock  up  all  the  papers.  Even  now 
Inez  is  the  last  of  the  Romeros." 

On  the  morrow  the  two  young  men  sat  together  in 
the  Catholic  church  at  Poughkeepsie,  while  the  solemn 
strains  of  the  mass  swelled  out  over  the  dead  general. 

It  was  a  little  gathering,  a  scanty  tribute  of  respect; 
but  the  three  women  in  the  front  pew  never  lifted 
their  eyes  from  the  coffin  to  gaze  at  the  half-empty 
church.  While  the  white-robed  acolytes  swung  the 
censer  the  mute  incense  of  these  women's  prayers 
silently  assailed  the  gate  of  Heaven,  and  not  in  vain. 
Padre  Guerra  sat  within  the  rail  robed  in  canonicals, 
but  his  voice  was  silent  as  the  officiating  priests 
chanted  the  high  mass.  In  a  corner  of  the  chapel 
Juan  Valdes  glowered  at  the  family  party,  while  his 
restless  black  eyes  sought  the  floor  at  sight  of  the 
sword  and  tattered  Lone  Star  flag  lying  on  the  coffin  of 
the  poor  old  veteran.  There  was  a  goodly  sprinkling 
of  the  honest-faced  villagers  of  Fishkill.  These  men 
and  women,  sobered  in  their  prosperous  daily  life  for 
a  moment,  gazed  in  awe  at  the  unfamiliar  Romish  rites 
of  the  beautiful  old  faith. 

Clad  in  her  deep  black,  Inez  Romero  sat  as  mute  as 
one  of  Murillo's  virgins,  one  diamond  tear  glittering 
on  her  fringing  lashes.  She  leaned  slightly  forward 
with  her  graceful  shoulders  quivering  under  the  heavy 
black  robes  of  orphanhood,  as  the  sweet  voices  of  the 
hidden  singers  swelled  up  in  passionate  pleading 
appeals  for  mercy.  If  there  is  any  way  to  reach  the 
human  heart  through  eye  and  ear  the  strange,  solemn 
pageantry  of  the  Romish  faith  is  the  most  impressively 
touching. 


HIS    CUBAN    SWEETHEART.  157 

The  child  of  an  Irish  exile  himself,  James  Nixon 
was  inexpressibly  touched  at  the  lonely  funeral  of  this 
alien  patriot.  It  seemed  to  recall  to  him  the  scattered 
graves  and  the  sad  fates  of  those  who  dreamed  of 
"  Ireland,  one  of  the  nations  of  the  earth."  The  men 
of  Ninety-eight  !  The  men  of  Forty-eight  ! — dying  on 
foreign  fields.  Cavaliers  of  fortune  under  stranger 
flags,  casting  hollow-eyed  glances  back  in  exile  at 
hearth  and  home,  now  only  a  vanished  dream  ;  rotting 
in  prison  perhaps,  or  dragging  the  chain  of  the 
branded  convict — it  was  to  this  doom  that  the  mad 
chivalry  of  old  Ireland  went  ! 

And  so  the  son  of  a  man  who  died  a  stranger  to 
home  and  kindred  for  sake  of  his  native  land,  mourned 
by  the  body  of  the  dead  Cuban  general. 

Thus  they  reverently  laid  Jose  Romero  away  to 
"  sleep  in  the  long  rest." 

Nixon  was  shaken  and  distraught  and  only  bowed 
mechanically  as  the  dark  form  of  Padre  Guerra  crossed 
between  him  and  God's  golden  sunlight  at  the  open 
door. 

"I  shall  not  see  you  again,"  the  priest  said  in  his 
deep  voice,  and  speaking  to  Frank  fixed  his  eyes  in  a 
grave  sadness  upon  Inez  Romero.  "  Adios .' " 

But  her  trembling  lips  moved  not  and  only  her  beau 
tiful,  delicate  head  was  bowed  as  he  passed  away  from 
their  sight. 

It  was  eleven  o'clock  that  evening  before  Nixon 
had  concluded  all  his  duties  at  Villa  Romero.  After 
dismissing  his  friend  Doctor  Vosburgh  he  went  the 
rounds  for  the  last  time. 

Then  alone  and  wearied  he  strode  over  the  lawn 
undera  bright  starlight  to  "try  a  breather"  back  to 
Edgecliff. 

Frank,  in  the  study  of  the  old  Colonial  mansion,  was 
awaiting  his  friend  when  sharp  and  strong  rang  out  two 
heavy  reports  of  a  pistol  down  in  the  glen  below. 

"My  God!  Nixon!"  cried  Lorimer  as  he  snatched 
his  own  pistol  out  of  the  drawer  before  him,  and  raced 
down  the  road  into  the  glen  at  a  spirit  which  recalled 
the  best  he  had  ever  done  "  under  the  blue  "  for  old 
Yale.  Sturdy  forms  followed  after  him. 


158  HIS   CUBAN    SWEETHEART. 

In  the  shaded  gully  which  divided  the  grounds 
of  Villa  Romero  from  Edgecliff,  the  running  man  in 
full  career  was  tripped  and  flung  almost  senseless  by  a 
doubled  stout  rope,  knee  high,  stretched  across  the 
path.  He  fell  beside  a  prostrate  form  lying  in  the 
middle  of  the  road. 

When  the  followers  reached  them,  Frank  Lorimer, 
bruised  and  stunned,  his  hands  covered  with  his  own 
blood,  was  crying  in  a  choking  voice:  "  They  have 
murdered  him!  My  God!  Jimmy,  speak  to  me!" 

A  feeble  voice  answered:  "All  right,  old  fellow! 
Only  my  hip  is  out  of  joint." 

Nixon  was  lifted  tenderly  to  a  mossy  bank  and  a 
couple  of  folded  coats  were  placed  under  his  head  and 
knees.  He  said  feebly:  "You'll  find  one  of  them 
down  there  in  the  hollow,  I  think,  for  I  hit  him — the 
second  shot.  Let  someone  look." 

"He  can  wait,"  grimly  said  Lorimer,  who  bent  over 
his  friend.  "  Who  was  it  ?" 

"Juan  and  another  fellow,"  sighed  Nixon.  "I 
shot  one  of  them.  They  tried  to  knife  me  as  I  lay 
half  stunned." 

In  a  few  moments  the  hip  was  shot  back  into  its 
place,  but  it  was  only  a  pale  and  senseless  face  which 
Doctor  Vosburgh  leaned  over  when  summoned  by 
express  rider  from  the  village.  Still,  the  assassins 
were  foiled. 

"See  here,  Lorimer,"  said  the  good  country  doctor, 
"  what  became  of  the  man  who  was  winged  ? " 

"  They  found  only  a  bloody  lair  where  the  fellow  had 
first  fallen  and  a  trail  down  the  glen.  I  should  judge 
that  the  other  assassin  had  carried  the  wounded  man. 
They  drove  off  in  a  buggy  which  they  had  concealed 
near  by." 

"  Lorimer,"  remarked  the  indignant  doctor,  "gun 
shot  wounds  are  not  very  common  with  us  in  this  quiet 
community.  I  can  easily  find  out  from  the  profession 
where  the  fellow  is  hiding." 

"  I  hardly  know  what  to  think,"  slowly  said  the  young 
lawyer.  "  I  will  have  Hogan  put  a  good  man  in  charge- 
here,  and — we'll  all  get  out  for  a  time.  It  may  save 
one  man's  life — perhaps  two."  And  then  he  told  the 


HIS    CUBAN    SWEETHEART.  159 

good  physician  that  the  European  hegira  was  an  estab 
lished  fact. 

"  All  right,"  answered  the  cheery  Vosburgh.  "  Cool 
salt  water  is  a  good  fence  against  these  fiery  Cubans. 
The  very  best." 

It  was  on  the  next  evening  when  Abercromby  had 
reported  the  sailing  of  the  padre — alone — for  Havana, 
that  the  good-looking  young  New  Yorker  and  all  the 
Golden  Circle  listened  to  Nixon's  brief  story: 

"  I  was  swinging  homeward  down  the  glen,  all  un 
suspicious,  when  the  treacherous  rope  snare  threw  me 
stunned  and  breathless  on  my  back.  It  was  only  after 
the  first  knife  cut  on  my  shoulder  that  I  had  the  pres 
ence  of  mind  to  shove  out  the  hammerless  revolver 
and  pull  the  trigger.  I  fainted  with  the  pain  of  the 
dislocation.  All  I  know  after  that  is  that  Lorimer 
called  me  a  whole  lot  of  pet  names  when  he  dove  over 
the  same  rope  and  fell  on  my  corpus!  " 

"  Did  you  recognize  Juan  as  one  of  the  assassins  ?  " 
demanded  Lorimer  with  a  very  ugly  look  in  his  eyes. 

"I  saw  only  the  two  dark  forms,"  replied  Nixon, 
who  was  basking  in  the  smiles  of  a  very  efficient  vol 
unteer  member  of  the  Red  Cross  Society.  "  One  was 
trying  to  climb  over  the  bank  and  get  at  me,  as  the 
more  agile  one  sprang  at  me  like  a  tiger,  slashing  with 
the  knife.  " 

Two  days  later  Doctor  Vosburgh  and  Abercromby 
stood  by  the  side  of  a  dark-faced  young  man  who  was 
raving  in  a  fever  in  the  Poughkeepsie  City  Hospital. 
"  That  was  a  close  call  on  the  artery,"  said  the  City 
Surgeon. 

"I  think  I  will  have  this  ball  mounted  for  luck," 
said  Doctor  Abercromby  when  they  drove  away.  For 
the  City  Surgeon  had  given  back  to  him  the  bullet 
fired  from  the  hammerless  revolver. 


t^to  HIS    CUBAN    SWEETHEART. 

CHAPTER    XL 
"COURAGE  AND  QUININE." 

THERE  is  always  some  peculiar  mystery  in  the  sl*u> 
recovery  of  a  good-looking  young  man,  who  lingers 
under  the  ministrations  of  a  handsome  young  chate 
laine  acting  as  nurse. 

Ethel  Lorimer  now  moved  around  Edgecliff  softly 
singing  to  herself,  "When  I  am  by  thy  side,"  and — 
other  words  to  that  effect.  It  was  a  dangerous  con 
valescence,  and  the  seals  of  that  mystery  were  never 
broken. 

Nixon  was  officially  rushed  into  health  by  Frank 
Lorimer  at  last  hanging  out  the  signal,  "Prepare  to 
desert  ship!  " 

It  was  not  strange  that  the  rosy  little  god,  "  going 
it  blind,"  was  unperceived  by  Frank.  For  he  was  a 
man  of  many  affairs.  First,  in  a  little  junta  including 
Doctor  Vosburgh  and  Captain  Hogan  it  was  pruden- 
tially  decided  to  ignore  the  presence  of  Juan  Valdes  as 
a  "public  boarder"  at  the  hospitable  hands  of  the 
burgesses  of  Poughkeepsie.  For  Padre  Guerra  must 
be  outwitted. 

"You  see,"  said  Captain  Hogan,  "it  saves  powder, 
lead  and  rope.  Some  other  fellow  will  kill  Mr.  Juan 
one  day  sure  enough.  He  has  got  his  bullet  marked 
by  that  horseshoe  murderer's  wrinkle.  I  put  it  up  this 
way.  The  New  York  gang  who  all  smuggle  in  and 
handle  here  floods  of  counterfeit  Cuban  money,  as  well 
as  do  the  'spy  act'  for  the  Spanish  government,  gave 
up  one  smart  fellow  to  help  Juan  put  the  doctor  neatly 
out  of  the  way.  But  as  for  lugging  a  wounded  man 
back  to  New  York  to  be  easily  'piped  off,'  and  give 
them  all  away,  not  so — it  was  not  in  the  contract." 

To  this  Abercromby  added  :  "As  he  could  not 
recognize  me  in  his  fever,  he  will  simply  slink  away 
and  so  we  have  gained  a  point  on  the  padre.  If  he 
returns  he  can  then  be  neatly  arrested  for  the 
assault," 


HIS    CUBAN    SWEETHEART.  l6l 

Soon  after  this  Frank  Lorimer,  after  closing  all  the 
preliminary  estate  business  at  Poughkeepsie,  verified 
at  last  the  departure  of  the  young  patient  whose  lame 
story  to  the  doctors  was  that  he  was  shot  while  "  fool 
ing  with  a  friend." 

There  were  very  grave  matters  to  call  all  to  New 
York.  Padre  Guerra  was  really  embarked  for  Cuba. 
The  Spanish  Minister  had  already  signified  to  the  State 
Department  his  earnest  approval  of  the  petition  duly 
forwarded  for  the  return  of  the  Jibacoa  estates,  and 
the  Secretary  of  State  of  the  United  States  of  America 
was  pleased  to  intimate  that  the  restitution  of  the  con 
fiscated  properties  seemed  probable,  and  he  advised 
the  tender  of  a  complete  withdrawal  of  all  the  personal 
claims  of  the  family  of  Felipe  Romero,  as  well  as 
Doctor  James  Nixon,  in  the  event  of  such  return. 
The  Secretary  desired  to  impress  upon  Doctor  Nixon 
the  awkwardness  of  his  own  personal  position,  as  hav 
ing  appeared  in  Cuba  as  "  Henry  Morgan."  This  fact 
might  be  taken  advantage  of  to  contest,  etc.,  etc. 

Jimmy  Nixon  won  the  last  crumbs  of  Lorimer's 
heart  already  ungathered,  by  promptly  stating  :  "I 
waive  all  to  effect  the  restitution  of  Miss  Inez's  natural 
rights,  for  I  feel  as  if  I  am  now  a  brother  of  the 
heart." 

This  was  very  daintily  and  gracefully  acknowledged 
by  Miss  Romero. 

Lorimer  had  also  quietly  effected  the  removal  of 
poor  Felipe's  remains  to  the  resting  place  in  Pough 
keepsie  where  the  old  rebel  Cuban  lay  now  deaf  to  the 
thunders  of  all  the  Spanish  cannon. 

There  had  been  mighty  councils  over  the  great 
problem  of  the  attempted  recovery  of  the  strangely 
transported  emeralds.  Frank  Lorimer  had  made  very 
careful  researches  as  to  the  wild  land  of  Spanish  Hon 
duras  and  how  to  get  there.  A  three  days'  visit  to 
New  York  gave  him  time  to  gather  much  information 
from  the  officers  of  the  Yantic  about  that  coast,  haunted 
ed  with  its  old  memories  of  Cortez,  Hog  Island,  the 
place  where  Columbus  himself  first  saw  the  mainland 
of  America,  and  Truxillo  Point. 

This   information    was   given    him    freely    by   "our 


162  HIS    CUBAN    SWEETHEART. 

mess,"  for  these  blue  and  gold  bound  young  patriots 
were  now  wandering  back  to  join  ship,  sadly  feeble  in 
the  ability  to  "draw  on  "  the  good-humored  paymas 
ter,  who  said:  "I  might  as  well  take  all  your  money 
and  leave  it  in  a  lump  over  in  four  blocks  of  upper 
Br*oadway,  for  the  florists,  jewelers,  theater  agents  and 
other  Bedouins  there,  get  it  all."  Then  he  prudently 
admonished  them  in  a  body  "to  get  married  and  settle 
down"  which  would  have  been  a  very  radical  change 
for  the  bright-faced  fellows  whose  generous  sailor 
hearts  kept  them  all  in  hot  water  trying  to  settle  up. 

During  all  this  the  "healing  process"  was  slowly 
going  on  at  Edgecliff,  and  it  seemed  that  Nixon 
"  healed  "  more  agreeably  while  Mrs.  Lorimer  was 
away  busied  with  the  preparations  for  their  Europsan 
jaunt. 

It  was  here  one  sunny  morning,  just  after  his  emer 
gence  from  a  sick  room,  that  a  dapper  stranger  made 
his  appearance  rigged  out  in  a  cross  between  a  yacht 
ing  suit  and  a  race  track  outfit. 

"This  here  'gent'  insisted  upon  seeing  you  person 
ally,"  said  Borland,  the  farmer  foreman,  as  he  led  the 
visitor  into  a  rustic  arbor  occupied  by  the  patient  and 
his  nurse. 

"Exactly!  That's  just  it,  personal  interview," 
glibly  remarked  the  "gent"  as  he  yanked  off  his  yacht 
ing  cap  and  waved  it,  gold-foil-anchor  and  all,  in  the 
direction  of  the  blushing  Miss  Ethel  Lorimer. 

There  was  an  amused  smile  playing  on  Nixon's  face 
as  he  calmly  examined  a  card  : 


H.   KINSLEY  SYNTAX, 
The  New  York  Daily  Calliope. 


"  Are  you  the  same  person  who  called  once  before  on 
Mr.  Frank  Lorimer  ?  "  asked  the  doctor  as  H.  Kinsley 
Syntax  deftly  pulled  out  a  flap  notebook  and  crowded 


HIS    CUBAN    SWEETHEART.  163 

up  to  the  table.  He  was  far  too  gallant  to  push  Miss 
Ethel's  alleged  work  off  the  narrowed  surface,  but  he 
did  seriously  contemplate  edging  Nixon's  "  game  leg" 
off  its  chair  so  as  to  get  more  elbow  play  to  build  up 
"  Head  Lines  "  for  the  New  York  Daily  Calliope. 

"Yes,  I  am  the  gentleman  who  did  that  neat  little 
swoop  on  the  fine  old  General.  There  was  a  man  ! 
Told  me  all.  Took  it  like  a  lamb.  The  young  fellow 
was  'no  good.'  Very  rough.  Forgot  himself  and 
'hollered'  at  me.  No  manners." 

"  I  regret  to  hear  it,"  said  Doctor  Jim  with  assumed 
gravity.  "  He  is  this  young  lady's  brother." 

A  little  red  spot  suddenly  tinted  each  brazen  cheek 
of  Mr.  H.  Kinsley  Syntax  as  he  solemnly  "dished" 
his  yachting  cap.  "  No  offense,  I  assure  you.  I  sup 
pose  it's  only  a  way  he  has.  Regular  man  eater. 
College  fellow,  I  imagine.  Comes  from  that  football 
craze  and  all  those  barbaric  games.  Better  stick  to 
their  books.  Spoils  our  best  young  men." 

Here  Ethel,  with  the  "partially  healed,"  laughed 
heartily  until  Nixon  observed  a  "black  cloud  "  con 
siderably  bigger  than  a  man's  hand,  going  down  on  the 
flap  notebook. 

"  What  are  you  doing  there  ?  "  he  ejaculated. 

"I  am  finishing  a  very  dashing  little  story  of  your 
adventure.  Your  good  man  there  has  told  me  nearly 
all." 

Then  panic  struck  them  as  H.  Kinsley  Syntax  read 
off  "just  a  few  touches"  of  the  glowing  article. 
"  Only  want  a  few  words  from  you  personally,"  said  he 
glibly,  and  hummed  away  in  a  professional  monotone  . 
"Description  of  assailant.  'Real  motive.'  'Cause 
of  old  feud.'  '  Beautiful  heiress's  movements.' ' 

Nixon  writhed  in  helpless  agony  as  he  tried  to  leap 
to  his  feet.  At  this  attempted  opening  of  hostilities, 
H.  Kinsley,  who  was  scribbling  a"way,  interjected  sym 
pathetically  :  "Better  lie  still,  it  hurts  you!" 

With  this  he  cast  respectfully  moderated  glances  of 
approval  at  Miss  Ethel  as  he  read  aloud  a  few  more 
dashes  of  genius: 

"'A  Cuban  Vendetta!'  'The  Stiletto  Sequel!' 
'  Blood  for  a  Blow ! '  '  The  Rival  Suitors ! '  '  Mystery  of 


164  HIS    CUBAN    SWEETHEART. 

a  Foreign  Heiress!'  'The  Struggle  in  the  Glen!' 
'  Midnight  Minions  Menace  Murder ! '  '  The  Lariat  Trap 
for  a  Fortunate  Lover!  ' 

"Don't  bear  malice,"  he  pleaded.  "  Bound  to  have 
the  news.  Make  a  Sunday  special  column  of  this. 
What  is  the  true  color  of  your  hair,  Miss  Ethel?  Wish 
I  had  a  kodak." 

He  fluttered  away  a  little  pace  as  Nixon  roared  with 
the  howl  of  a  chained  bear  untimely  waked. 

Then  the  sudden  rattle  of  wheels  recalled  Frank  Lor- 
imer's  "fot  liter  in  re,"  and  Mr.  H.  Kinsley  Syntax  was 
a  thing  of  the  past. 

"Better  let  him  print  it,"  said  Nixon  to  the  laugh 
ing  yet  blushing  girl.  "It  would  only  be  a  double 
dose  later  if  we  fight  them."  And  then  the  "healing 
process  "  went  on  "a  sweet  uninterrupted  silence." 

Frank  Lorimer  joined  in  their  merriment  on  his  re 
turn  when  he  heard  of  the  narrow  escape  of  H.  Kinsley 
Syntax  of  the  notable  Calliope.  "I  hope  that  H.  Kinsley 
will  not  get  a  celestial  assignment  before  he  has  a  hack 
at  a  wedding  in  these  families.  He  is  immense  in  the 
genre  style  of  word-painting,  and  does  bridal  proces 
sions  grandly  at  five  dollars  a  column.  Besides,  seri 
ously,  Syntax  has  some  of  the  attributes  of  a  real  jour 
nalist,  and  no  one  ever  found  a  real  journalist  go  back 
on  his  calling  as  a  weakling  or  a  coward.  The  names 
of  Villiers,  McGahan  and  Sala  stand  sponsor  for  their 
courage  on  the  field  of  battle  and  their  nobility  in  pri 
vate  life.  I've  known  them  to  often  generously  save 
a  woman's  reputation,  shield  a  public  man's  honor  and 
touch  the  erring  one  lightly,  when  piles  of  solid  shekels 
awaited  a  touch  of  their  nimble  fingers." 

"  You  should  have  been  a  reporter,  too,"  retorted 
Ethel. 

"They  have  also  made  some  of  our  great  lawyers," 
laughed  Lorimer.  "  But,  seriously,  Nixon,  to-morrow 
night  is  our  last  in  the  old  home  for  an  indefinite 
period.  I  want  to  know  when  you  can  show  a  clean 
bill  of  health.  I  have  engaged  the  passage  for  our 
ladies  a  week  ahead  on  La  Touraine  and  everything  is 
now  safe  in  the  vaults  below  Broadway  save  the  copies 
we  want  to  use.  Now,  you  and  I  must  face  the  matter 


HIS    CUBAN    SWEETHEART.  165 

of  the  emeralds.  I  have  gone  through  every  printed 
reference  to  Spanish  Honduras  that  I  can  find  in  New 
York.  I  have  seen  slippery  agents,  traders,  sailors 
and  colonization  agents.  Even  disgusted  adventurers 
I  have  interviewed,  all  through  the  eye  of  Abercromby. 
There  seems  to  be  but  one  plausible  story  in  case  we 
do  go,  and  that  is  to  go  simply  as  American  prospect 
ors  or  miners.  It  is  the  only  way  to  avoid  being 
watched,  followed  or  murdered  in  that  tropical  land, 
generally  described  to  me  as  'a  hell  on  earth!  " 

"  What's  wrong  with  it  ?  "  gravely  said  Nixon. 

"Oh,  the  land  is  a  fair  enough  worn-out  mixture  of 
tropic  jiuigle,  Cordilleras,  baking  plains  and  stony 
hills.  The  Caribs  alone  are  '  well  worth  the  price  of 
admission,'  and  the  monkeys,  macaws,  crocodiles  and 
tigers,  with  the  river  cows  and  armadillos,  are  a  host  in 
themselves.  But  many  of  the  officials,  merchants  and 
leading  men  in  power  are  murderers,  thieves  and  civil 
ization's  rejected  misfits.  To  go  down  there  I  pro 
pose  that  separately  we  rendezvous  at  Key  West,  then 
we  must  get  a  little  schooner  to  run  us  over  to  Truxillo 
or  Omoa,  and,  with  a  mountain  outfit  of  a  prospecting 
nature,  make  our  way  quietly  up  into  the  Mangalile 
hills.  So  you,  Abercromby  and  I  will  be  honest  miners. 

"Hoho!  Bill  has  the  Honduras  fever,  too, "laughed 
Nixon.  "But  I  assent!  Your  scheme  of  playing  the 
miner  is  a  good  one." 

So  the  maps  were  spread  out,  the  copied  relations  of 
Fernando  Aguilar  de  Romero  were  keenly  searched  for 
any  further  hidden  cryptograms  and  the  subject  ap 
proached  at  last  in  the  final  putting  of  the  yeas  and 
nays.  For  it  seemed  like  a  vain  dream,  a  forlorn  hope, 
that  shadowy  inheritance. 

"The  only  question  for  us  now  to  consider,"  said 
Nixon,  after  Frank  Lorimer  had  gravely  stated  the  whole 
case,  "is  to  decide  if  it  is  worth  while  to  make  the  at 
tempt  or  not — as  to  whether  we  will  find  the  emeralds. 
In  other  words — is  the  game  worth  the  candle?" 

"It  seems  fantastic,"  answered  Nixon,  "this  hope 
that  the  spirits  of  the  mountain  have  so  long  guarded 
this  trust  from  all  thieving,  blood-stained  hands.  But 
look  at  the  discoveries  of  the  Egyptologists,  think  of 


1 66  HIS   CUBAN    SWEETHEART. 

the  finds  at  Troy,  gloat  over  the  millions  in  silver  dol 
lars  raised  after  centuries  in  Vigo  Bay.  Somewhere  in 
the  oozy  slime  of  that  little  puddle  of  a  river  called  the 
Tiber  are  the  seven  hundred  golden  candlesticks  of  the 
Temple,  as  pictured  on  the  arch  frowning  before  the 
yawning  Coliseum.  Why,  this  deposit  is  of  yesterday, 
compared  with  some  of  the  finds  I  have  mentioned. 
The  emeralds  are  also  indestructible  by  water  and  rust. 
The  vengeance  of  God  suddenly  swept  away  all  the 
guilty  murderers,  and  we  have  the  truthful  words  of  the 
simple-hearted  old  caballero,  who  was  driven  by  his 
wounded  honor  to  lift  the  rebel  sword  against  His 
Catholic  Majesty  of  Spain.  But  one  contingency  has 
occurred  to  me — the  frequent  earthquakes  of  Central 
America.  Should  the  rocky  arch  have  been  thrown 
down  the  engineering  problem  might  mean  the  removal 
of  the  whole  rocky  point.  This  would  be  impossible, 
as  we  can  only  pass  through  and  scratch  over  the 
ground  without  attracting  consideiable  official  atten 
tion.  And  then,  the  Honduranean  magnates,  hating 
the  gringo  with  all  the  Latin-American  distrustful 
spleen,  wonld  surely  prevent  us  legally  acquiring  a  title 
to  the  ground  or  operating  to  any  great  extent.  Shall 
we  go  down  and  see? " 

The  young  women's  eyes  were  soft  with  romantic 
apprehension,  and  Agnes  Lorimer,  the  loving  mother 
of  one  of  the  young  men,  was  herself  mute.  She  neither 
whispered  "Go"  nor  "Stay." 

"Bah!"  impetuously  cried  Frank  Lorimer  as  the 
hush  became  almost  solemn.  "Englishmen  go  from  the 
Thames  to  the  Himalayas  for  a  single  pop  at  a  tiger. 
Amateurs  dally  now  with  the  North  Pole.  The  '  new 
woman"  is  carted  across  Africa,  clad  in  a  sweet  smile 
and  her  Jenness  Miller's.  We  can  easily  make  the  trip 
in  two  months.  I  say,  go  !  All  we  want  is  courage 
and  quinine." 

"  Well,  if  you  wish  to  furnish  the  courage,  I'll  throw 
in  the  quinine,"  laughed  the  doctor.  Then  he  stretched 
out  his  hand.  "  It's  a  go,  Frank  !  " 

And  the  only  touch  of  sentiment  was  when  the  con 
clave  broke  up,  for  Agnes  Lorimer  threw  her  shapely 
arms  around  Frank,  murmuring:  "My  boy!" 


HIS   CUBAN    SWEETHEART.  167 

The  two  beauties  who  gazed  from  under  shaded 
lashes  at  the  self-devoted  knight  errants  did  not  throw 
any  arms  around  them,  however,  for  obvious  reasons. 
The  sweet,  strange, delicious  monopoly  of  the  knowledge 
that  love  had  already  stolen  into  their  hearts,  like  a  thief 
in  the  night,  made  these  two  dissembling  maids  fearful  of 
each  other.  They  hovered  on  the  ragged  edge  of  self- 
betrayal,  however,  when  Lorimer  said:  "To-morrow  we 
change  our  headquarters  to  New  York  City.  As  soon 
as  we  hear  by  cable  that  La  Touraine  has  arrived,  we 
miners  will  depart  singly  from  the  city,  and  to  Frank 
will  be  left  all  the  communication  with  you.  They 
must  be  of  a  family  nature  only.  Our  letters  would  not 
be  safe.  The  secret  we  carry  is  so  weighty  that  only 
after  our  success  or  failure  can  we,  or  any  of  us,  tele 
graph  an  agreed-on  word  to  Drexel,  Harjes  &  Co.  at 
Paris." 

"There  is  one  thing  I  would  speak  of,"  hesitatingly 
said  Inez.  "I  wish  to  spare  no  pains  or  expense  to 
recover  the  estate  of  Los  Olmos.  If  it  is  ever  mine, 
then  Don  Jose  and  Felipe  shall  rest  in  the  chapel  where 
my  mother  lies.  As  to  this  wild  quest,  if  you  succeed, 
you  must  know  what  your  reward  will  be.  You  go  to 
danger  to  face  fever  and  the  jungle  and  all  these 
terrors." 

' '  Will  you  permit  me  to  name  my  reward — if  I  return?" 
said  Frank  Lorimer,  in  a  voice  that  made  Miss  Inez 
glow  like  the  rose  and  pale  like  the  lily  in  two  breaths. 

"I  only  go  for  your  sake,  Frank,"  laughed  Nixon. 
Which  was  a  very  well-developed  whopper,  for  the 
sister  standing  mutely  there  had  given  him  a  look 
which  was  "partial  payment"  in  advance. 

The  party  soon  left  Edgecliff.  Inez  was  happier  for 
every  mile  the  steel  wheels  checked  off  between  her  and 
all  the  sorrowful  memories  of  the  deserted  Villa  Ro 
mero.  Agnes  Lorimer's  gentle  eyes  rested  in  pride 
and  hope  on  her  brave  son,  and  all  the  circle  felt  that 
they  had  come  as  it  were  "out  of  the  shadows  of  the 
night,"  when  they  were  harbored  in  that  dear  old 
hostelry  the  Fifth  Avenue! 

There  was  a  store  of  important  business  awaiting  the 
young  men  already;  a  summons  from  the  State 


1 68  HIS   CUBAN    SWEETHEART. 

Department  at  Washington  for  Lorimer's  imme— ate 
presence,  the  cards  of  Banker  Munoz  to  see  Miss 
Romero;  Lieutenant  Walsingham,  U.  S.  N.,  for  Doctor 
Nixon;  Captain  Hogan,  too,  was  in  friendly  unofficial 
waiting  and  several  letters  from  the  consul  at  Matan- 
zas  were  sent  up — the  preliminary  orchestral  strains  of 
a  new  act  of  the  drama. 

"I'll  not  bother  you,  Lorimer, "  said  the  police  offi 
cer.  He  then  gave  the  lawyer  a  cipher  address.  "Use 
that  and  the  force  will  always  swing  to  your  help.  Bet 
ter  name  a  cool  friend  here  to  look  after  your  confi 
dential  affairs  and  also  give  him  a  card  to  me." 

"Thanks,  captain,"  gratefully  answered  Lorimer. 
"You  are  a  brick.  "I'll  send  Tom  Ellison,  my  law 
partner,  down  to  see  you." 

"Fine  young  fellow,"  remarked  Hogan,  "know  him 
well." 

"Well,  he's  all  the  same  as  myself  then,  Hogan. 
That  fixes  the  whole  thing." 

"Glad  of  it!  Go  well  armed,  too.  A  good  Win 
chester,  pistol  and  knife,  and  take  an  old  'cop's'  ad 
vice — just  when  you  think  you're  all  right,  the  coast 
clear  and  no  danger  near,  then  skin  your  eyes.  I  don't 
know  what  your  business  is,  but  there's  an  ugly  taint 
of  dirty,  cowardly  work  against  you  in  this  whole 
affair."  The  gay  captain  disappeared  whistling  "Annie 
Rooney. " 

The  pleasant  half-hour  with  Lieutenant  Walsingham 
in  the  parlor  with  the  ladies  was  supplemented  by  ten 
minutes  of  private  confab.  "See  here,  doctor,"  he 
said,  as  he  scribbled  a  card  to  the  navy  agent  at  Key 
West,  "find  Old  Frenchy,  the  slaver.  He's  nearly 
seventy,  but  even  to-day  the  best  skipper  in  the  Spanish 
Main.  True  as  gold,  he  knows  every  rock  and  turtle  spit 
down  there  and  has  always  a  lot  of  schooners  and  yachts 
in  traffic.  He's  your  very  man.  Tell  him  I  sent  you. 
The  navy  agent  will  have  a  private  letter  from  me. " 

A  few  days  later  four  stalwart  young  men  were  the 
very  last  to  cease  waving  their  hats  and  kerchiefs  as 
the  great  sea-bound  Touraine  backed  out  slowly  into 
the  Hudson.  Two  of  these  fancied  that  there  was 
something  meant,  for  one  heart  alone,  in  the  last 


HIS    CUBAN    SWEETHEART.  169 

fluttering  signal  of  dark-eyed  Inez  and  dazzling  Miss 
Ethel  Lorimer.  On  the  finger  of  one  of  the  watch 
ing  lovers  gleamed  a  slender  golden  band  which  spoke 
of  future  hope,  now  glowing  only  hidden  in  that  lover's 
breast — a  sweet  secret,  half  of  which  future  pledge 
was  throbbing  on  Inez  Romero's  fair  white  bosom. 

Nixon  had  shyly  filched  a  bit  of  golden  hair  with  a 
sunny  wave  in  its  bright  filaments,  .and  this  was  to  be 
his  own  secret  talisman  in  the  future  days  skimming 
over  the  glassy  waves  of  the  blue  Caribbean  and  des 
tined  to  light  the  dark  hours  under  the  glowing  tangles 
of  the  literally  howling  wilderness  of  the  unexplored 
forests  of  Honduras. 

All  was  now  ready  for  the  quest.  The  day  had  come 
when  the  three  friends  separated  to  meet  at  Key 
West. 

Tom  Ellison,  the  home  guard,  wrung  Frank  Lorimer's 
hand  stoutly  in  parting.  For  the  young  lawyer  was 
now  billeted  by  rail  to  St.  Augustine,  Florida,  to  there 
meet  Abercromby,  who  had  already  sailed  by  steamer 
to  Havana,  with  a  mysterious  mission  to  Admiral  Top- 
lights  ;  and  Doctor  Nixon,  now  bowling  down  pastHat- 
teras  on  the  Florida  steamer. 

"Frank  !"  muttered  the  anxious  Ellison,  "remem 
ber,  old  boy,  if  anything  happened  to  you,  it  would 
simply  break  three  hearts.  Don't  forget  Hogan's  ad 
vice.  Trust  nothing  to  no  one  down  there.  And  may 
God  bless  you  !  " 

Frank  Lorimer,  light  at  heart  as  the  train  passed 
out  of  Jersey  City,  felt  that  mysterious  thrill  of  young 
blood  which  comes  always  with  "going  into  action." 

"If  there  are  any  emeralds  to  be  had  on  the  Man- 
galile,"  he  joyously  pledged  himself,  "we  will  try  and 
imitate  friend  H.  Kinsley  Syntax,  and  make  a  clean 
scoop'" 

For  he  was  a  lover,  brave  and  bold  and  strong  in  the 
golden  chain  he  lightly  wore — the  love  of  the  dark-eyed 
Cuban  girl — now  wandering  along  the  Champs  Elysees. 


BOOK    III. 

A    MODERN    FILIBUSTER. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

HELPLESS    IN    THE    FOREST. 

"I  DON'T  see  anything  the  matter  with  this  part  of 
the  trip,  do  you  ?"  idly  remarked  William  Abercromby, 
M.D.,  as  he  gazed  at  Frank  Lorimer,  counsellor-at- 
law,  who  had  just  dexterously  flopped  a  good-sized 
red  mullet  on  the  deck  of  the  schooner  BeauregarJ. 

The  shimmering  rays  of  the  sun  were  slowly  dying 
in  a  pearly  mist  and  yearning  toward  the  purple  haze 
of  the  night.  The  still  water,  a  blue  crystalline  flood, 
brimmed  up  to  the  very  level  of  the  coral  reefs  known 
as  the  Dry  Tortugas. 

The  stout  schooner  daintily  swam  on  the  shallow 
waters,  where  by  day  opal,  aqua-marine  and  emerald 
flashes  gleamed  up  from  the  branching  gardens  below, 
nature's  fairy  aquarium.  The  deck  of  the  boat  was 
deserted  save  by  one  lazy  sailor,  coiled  up  on  a  pile  of 
loosened  sail  and  watching  the  "Portuguese  man-o'- 
war"  float  by. 

The  silent  octagon  of  huge  Fort  Jefferson  lay  before 
them  only  a  few  cable  lengths  away,  and  on  clear  nights 
Key  West  light  blinked  out  its  friendly  "Good-by" 
over  the  silent  waters  of  the  Florida  channel,  the 
dreamy  seas  of  the  tropics. 

"So  far,  it's  only  a  picnic — an  aquatic  night  dream," 
said  Frank  Lorimer,  ringing  out  a  cheery  "Aye,  aye, 
sir"  as  Nixon  popped  his  head  out  of  his  cabin  hatch. 

"  Lobscouse  and  mystery  for  three.  Tumbledown 
here,  lads,"  sung  out  the  doctor.  "Tony  has  'thrown 
himself 'for  our  last  meal  in  American  waters." 


HIS   CUBAN    SWEETHEART.  171 

"My  native  land,  good  night,"  mournfully  murmured 
Lorimer,  as  he  coiled  up  his  fishing  lines. 

"  Yes,  Frenchy  says  we'll  be  well  under  way  before  we 
wash  decks  again,"  answered  Abercromby,  as  they 
sought  the  cabin. 

There  was  no  sound  but  the  jingling  of  table  equipage 
for  some  time,  as  the  three  had  already  developed  their 
regulation  sea  appetite.  The  cabin  was  spacious  and 
comfortable,  and  Abercromby  remarked,  at  the  black 
coffee  and  cigar  stage  of  the  meal :  "Where  inthe  wo  rid 
did  this  old  beach-comber  pick  up  a  vessel  like  this  ? 
She's  a  beauty." 

"So  she  is,"  slowly  said  Nixon,  "and  I  fell  in  love 
with  her  when  I  first  saw  that  glistening  gold  streak  on 
her  black  sides,  and  the  carved  eagle  at  her  stern.  Do 
you  know  that  she  has  a  very  strange  history?" 

"Tell  us,"  cried  the  others,  who  now  yearned  for  an 
after-dinner  yarn. 

"  I  got  it  from  Lefferts,  the  Key  West  navy  agent," 
began  the  doctor.  "  Fifteen  years  ago  the  beauty  cost  a 
mint  of  money — with  two  huge  sticks  in  her  twice  the 
proper  size,  and  sails  big  enough  for  a  corvette.  She 
capsized,  being  over-sparred,  in  a  squall  off  Staten 
Island,  and  made  the  name  Mohawk  a  sad  memory 
to  those  who  knew  that  princely  family  of  New 
Yorkers  who  nearly  all  perished  in  her.  Sold  for 
a  song  under  a  probate  order,  she  then  passed  through 
several  hands,  and  distinguished  herself  later  by  drown 
ing  a  colonel  of  engineers  and  a  party  of  his  official 
subordinates  off  Fernandina  harbor,  Florida,  turning 
turtle  again  in  a  tornado.  Tony  found  the  dismasted  hulk 
floating  out  at  sea  tight  as  a  drum.  It  was  drifting 
around  in  the  channel,  the  wonder  of  the  albicore  and  the 
admiration  of  the  white  shark.  The  ex-pirate  dragged 
her  into  a  cove,  then  sawed  off  a  few  extra  yards  of 
bowsprit  and  put  some  moderate-sized  sticks  in  her. 
In  Frenchy's  hands,  with  conservative  canvas,  she  can 
even  now  walk  past  a  flying  square  rigger.  For  he  knows 
all  her  wicked  capers  to  a  dot,  and  his  graceful  loyalty 
is  testified  by  the  name  Beauregard,  so  saucily  slapped 
on  over  Uncle  Sam's  own  carved  eagle." 

"  To  what  base  uses  we  may  return,  Horatio,"  mur- 


172  HIS   CUBAN    SWEETHEART. 

mured  Lorimer.  "  The  millionaire's  costly  toy  to  pass 
into  the  doubtful  hands  of  our  sea  Figaro,  Antoine 
Lemaire.  Frenchy,  the  slaver,  man-o'-war'sman, 
wrecker,  blockade  runner,  smuggler,  pirate,  and 
all-round  general  utility  man  for  the  United  States 
army,  navy  and  treasury." 

"Yes,"  laughed  Abercromby,  "Pilot  for  all  the 
world,  chief  satellite  of  the  Cuban  renegade,  friend  of 
the  filibuster,  and  '  dead  agin'  every  government  that 
lives." 

"He's  a  singular  old  wild   duck,"  remarked  Nixon. 

Just  then  a  bullet  head  popped  into  the  companion- 
way  with  a  pair  of  twinkling  gray  eyes  shining  keenly 
over  a  bristling  gray  mustache.  The  face  was  as  brown 
as  old  mahogany,  and  "Frenchy"  then  gayly  cried: 
"  All  right!  Vamos  nosotros;  a  demain  !  " 

"Let  her  go,  Gallagher!  "  laughed  Lorimer. 

With  this  Tony  wobbled  away,  crying:  "Three 
days  more  and  you  see  Omoa  Castle.  Big  old  fort. 
Spanish !  Sacrc ' !  " 

Frank  walked  the  deck  for  half  an  hour,  for  two  dark 
Creole  eyes  were  shining  down  into  his  heart  as  the 
stars  hung  white  and  trembling  over  the  anchored  ves 
sel,  floating  as  if  suspended  in  air  under  the  sapphire 
skies  of  the  Caribbean. 

Once  more  he  was  leaving  his  native  land  to  take 
chances  among  the  Spanish  Americanos.  True,  the 
island  he  looked  on  was  only  Dry  Tortugas  and  the 
fort  almost  deserted,  with  crumbling  bastions  and  dis 
mounted  columbiads — still,  over  it  floated  the  flag  of 
the  United  States! 

Then  he  was  joined  by  his  friend. 

"Who  would  think  that  old  chap  in  his  razeed  sea- 
boot  slippers,  canvas  trousers  and  a  hickory  shirt  was 
the  proprietor  of  a  nautical  boneyard  valued  at  a  quar 
ter  of  a  million  dollars?"  mused  Nixon,  as  he  lit  a 
fresh  cigar. 

"I  would  like  that  Bayard  of  the  lead  pencil,  Mr. 
H.  Kinsley  Syntax,  of  the  Calliope,  to  write  up  his  pict 
uresque  old  haunt  on  Orange  river,"  remarked  Aber 
cromby.  "  Lefferts  tells  me  that  Frenchy  has  an 
entire  island  there,  all  to  himself.  He  rules  with  a  rod 


HIS    CUBAN    SWEETHEART.  173 

of  iron  some  still  faithful  slaves  who  know  not  even 
now  the  name  of  'Father  Abraham.'  There  is  also 
an  old  negro  Voudoo  princess  who  acts  as  his  Fatima. 
His  collection  of  old  junk  and  marine  curios  stolen 
from  wrecks  is  very  amusing,  and  yet  they  tell  me  that 
the  bankers  and  capitalists  of  the  Key  West  admiralty 
court  will  back  Tony  Lemaire  on  his  simple  word  at 
any  time  with  a  hundred  thousand  dollars." 

"  According  to  his  lights  he  is  a  pretty  square  man," 
replied  Nixon. 

"Yes,  wreckers'  lights,"  chuckled  Doctor  William. 
"He's  a  nimble  old  chap,  too.  They  tell  me  that  his 
seventy  years  count  sixty  of  realistic  romance  since  he 
skipped  out  of  Bordeaux  a  cabin  boy  at  ten,  and  burst 
his  mother's  apron  string  with  a  resounding  snap. 
Lefferts  says  that  he  used  to  pilot  the  Wanderer 
when  Lamar  ran  the  last  Congo  '  niggers  '  into  the 
Savannah  River,  and  has  often  seen  the  bobbing  heads 
rise  and  fall  in  their  wake,  as  the  poor  Africans 
were  walked  overboard,  chained  together  to  leave  a 
'  clean  bill  of  health  '  when  hove  to  by  a  Government 
cruiser." 

Here  Lorimer  interjected  :  "Quit romance  and  come 
to  business.  What  is  our  itinerary  on  the  raging 
main  ?  " 

"I  believe,  answered  Nixon,  that  after  lingering 
along  the  Central  American  coast  here  and  there  for  a 
few  days,  as  if  leisurely  trading  or  looking  for  a  banana 
plantation  site,  we  can  happen  in  at  Truxillo.  There 
we  get  a  handy  little  mule  train  and  cross  the  interior 
ranges  until  we  strike  the  great  unknown  Aguan  River. 
There  are  so  many  straggling  parties  of  American 
prospectors  who  are  wandering  around,  lured  down 
there  by  humbug  colonization  schemes,  that  we  will 
only  be  regarded  as  three  more  unfortunates.  Yet 
I  am  sorry  that  we  do  not  land  and  break  into  the 
mountains  by  Puerta  Cortez  or  San  Juan.  We  would 
so  be  spared  the  needless  curiosity  of  all  the  mingled 
scoundrels,  bravos  and  refugees  of  Truxillo." 

"  True,"  calmly  said  the  lawyer,  "  and  we  might  also 
wander  up  and  down,  two  or  three  hundred  miles 
astray,  in  the  terrific  gorges  of  the  Mangalile  and  upper 


174  HIS   CUBAN    SWEETHEART. 

branches  of  the  winding  Aguan  and  never  know 
whether  we  were  above  or  below  our  point.  No  !  we 
must  strike  over  the  iron  coast  range  from  Truxillo, 
cross  the  great  Arinal  range  to  Jocon,  and  then  follow 
up  the  Mangalile  from  its  junction.  In  that  way  we 
must  recognize  the  sharp  nose  on  the  South  with  the 
great  nostril  bored  through  it  by  the  wild  dashing 
river." 

"I  fear,  too,  that  we  may  be  followed  or  paralleled, 
tracked  or  spied  on  if  we  go  to  Truxillo.  Can  we  not 
cross  the  mountains,  build  some  canoes  and  work  up 
the  river?"  anxiously  questioned  Nixon. 

"  We  could  work  down  like  a  flash,"  quickly  said 
Lorimer,  "but  even  a  Thorneycroft  launch  could  not 
force  its  way  up  the  Mangalile." 

"It  looks  like  a  rocky  road  to  Dublin,"  remarked 
Abercromby,  "for  Cortez  lost  three  hundred  men  in 
four  days  there  on  the  quartz-fanged  hillsides." 

"  He  won't  lose  us,"  determinedly  said  Lorimer. 
"We  are  not  clad  in  two  hundred  pound  suits  of  pot 
metal  armor.  I  am  going  in  for  these  emeralds  if  I 
wade  up  the  river  like  a  flamingo." 

"  Selah !  "  remarked  both  his  auditors  as  they  took  an 
observation  and  turned  in. 

When  they  turned  out  for  their  tub  at  the  time  of 
deck  washing,  the  Beauregard  was  already  spinning 
along  over  crisp  seas  and  Tony  Lemaire  was  most  en 
ergetically  damning  his  crew  in  choice  imprecative  ex 
cerpts  from  the  various  languages  acquired  in  his  in 
teresting  career. 

"Jimmy,"  said  Abercromby,  "How  I  envy  your 
staccato  friend,  'Frenchy  the  Slaver.'  If  I  could  only 
swear  as  satisfactorily  as  this  retired  pirate  I  would  like 
to  paralyze  a  New  York  hackman  or  two." 

The  time  passed  rapidly.  "  Frenchy  the  Slaver," 
lightly  tempted,  opened  his  "knowledge  box"  and 
dilated  upon  the  legends  of  Porto  Bello,  Tortuga,  Coro 
Island  and  Cayman  Grand.  He  revealed  a  vast  treas 
ury  of  stories  caught  up  from  sea  rover,  slaver,  smug 
gler  and  the  proud,  defiant  children  of  the  freebooters. 
Tales  of  the  Carib's  unerring  vengeance,  legends  of  the 
slave  uprising  of  Santo  Domingo  and  weird  stories  of 


HIS    CUBAN    SWEETHEART.  175 

Voudoo  vengeance  and  of  the  wild  planter  life  of  the 
West  Indies  fell  from  his  lips  as  he  narrowly  watched 
the  helmsman  yelling  out  a  warning  when  the  Beau- 
regard  fell  off  a  half-point. 

In  all  this  chaff  there  were  stray  pearls  of  great 
value,  and  the  three  young  men  drank  in  these  stories 
a  la  Sinbad  cum  grano  salts,  and  yet  to  their  practical 
edification. 

They  exchanged  knowing  winks  as  Tony  lit  a  flat 
"Cabana,"  saying:  "  Don't  trus'  no  Truxillo  manna. 
Voleurs,  thief  a  man  !  Truxillo — bloody  hole.  I 
know  him.  I  bin  calaboose  there  three  weeks.  I  there 
when  General  Walker,  great  filibustero,  shot.  Both  his 
eyes  blaze  like  a  gray  eagle." 

And  Lemaire  walked  away  muttering  curses  loud 
and  deep  on  all  Hispano-American  officials.  He 
summed  up  their  many  perfections  in  one  sweeping 
remark,  capable  of  universal  application:  "  Port  Admi 
ral,  you  be  damned!" 

In  fact,  Frenchy  the  Slaver  saw  no  necessity  for 
government  of  any  kind.  He  only  reverenced  the 
"shipping  articles"  and  the  memory  of  the  great 
Napoleon. 

Two  days  later  the  Beauregard  glided  along  swiftly 
on  an  enchanted  sea.  To  the  north,  a  few  miles  away, 
green  fringed  Bonaca  slept  upon  the  waters ;  to  the  west 
blue  hills  all  palm-sh'aded  rose  where  Ruatan  stretched 
its  fifty  miles  of  witching  beauty,  fleeting  by  them  like 
a  floating  island  of  the  Hesperides. 

"It's  not  this  one,  but  the  middle  one  that  we  wish 
to  see,"  murmured  the  three  friends,  as  they  watched 
the  boiling  white  crystal  flash  out  of  the  sparkling 
blue,  under  the  swift  schooner's  dancing  heel. 

The  next  morning  Nixon,  as  he  walked  the  deck  at 
sunrise  with  Lorimer,  for  they  were  all  excited  now, 
gave  an  exclamation  of  joy  and  whispered :  "  Here  is 
the  very  place  that  the  Don  described.  The  middle 
island.  It  confirms  his  story  in  every  word." 

Abercromby  joined  them  as  he  resumed:  "Now  we 
will  take  the  fresh  water  here  and  in  six  hours  bear 
away  for  the  heel  of  Belize  Bay. 

Under  a  golden  sun  the  next  day  faint  curving  shore 


176  HIS    CUBAN    SWEETHEART. 

lines  crept  out  low  to  the  north,  purple  mountains 
backing  the  horizon  to  the  south  and  west,  and  a  few 
silver  sails  flecked  the  dreaming  waters  of  Belize  Bay, 
as  the  three  gathered  Americans  listened  to  Frenchy's 
harangue. 

"Belize,"  pointed  Lemaire  to  the  north.  "One 
English  regiment  every  year.  El  vomito  ! — Yella  Jack. 
He  kill  all.  Todos !  Governor,  man,  lady — all  ! 
There,  him  Guatemala  !  "  pointing  to  the  west,  and 
then  wheeling  to  the  south  in  rapid  succession  he 
snapped  his  Gallic  fingers,  cigarito-stained,  in  scorn. 
"  Puerta  Cortez — Livingston,  Omoa,  Ceiba,  Truxillo. 
Ah  !  Ladrones — Sacre  Honduras  !  " 

They  looked  upon  this  scene  with  eager  eyes.  For 
in  those  blue  mountains,  stretching  faint  and  far,  lay 
the  silent,  haunted  river  chasm  whose  secret  deposit  of 
three  centuries  was  their  quest.  On  the  threshold  of 
the  unknown,  they  were  face  to  face  at  last  with  the 
dangers  of  the  voyage. 

"It  is  prudent,"  murmured  Lorimer,  "to  generally 
give  out  our  prospecting  character  here."  It  was  the 
next  day,  and  the  three  friends  were  gazing  at  Puerta 
Cortez,  a  dwarfed  semblance  of  townhood,  as  an  official 
boat  dragged  out  over  the  oily  tide  to  board  them ;  but 
Consul  Bertrand  had  squared  all  their  papers,  so  they 
had  a  clean  bill  of  official  health. 

For  two  hours  the  pompous  lieutenant  poked  around 
in  every  corner  of  the  Beauregard,  while  P'renchy, 
with  a  vast  wave  of  florid  politeness,  forced  meat  and 
drink  offerings  upon  the  military  customs  party. 

"  Aht  voleurs  canailles  /"  he  cried,  as  the  boat  glided 
away  to  Omoa  Bay.  But  keen  and  sensible  were 
Frenchy's  actions,  all  guarded  by  an  infinite  prudence. 

"  To-morrow  we  will  go  ashore  and  look  at  Omoa 
Castle,"  said  Lorimer.  "Then  skim  along  down  to 
Truxillo.  There  we  will  strike  for  the  interior  at  once, 
while  Frenc'hy  fills  the  boat  up  with  hides  and  skins  at 
all  the  little  landings,  so  as  to  give  an  excuse  to  hover 
around  in  harbor  for  our  return." 

"I  am  glad  we  have  ended  the  first  chapter,"  re 
marked  Nixon,  as  the  anchor  rattled  down  within  gun 
shot  of  the  great,  silent  masonry  fortress  which  cost 


HIS    CUBAN    SWEETHEART.  177 

Philip  of  Spain  ten  millions  of  pesos.  The  three 
friends  could  see  the  flash  of  a  single  bayonet  on  the 
ramparts. 

Dreamy,  low,  shallow  lagoons  lay  sweltering  about 
it,  and  a  pestilential  swamp  surrounded  the  great  keep. 
It  was  under  the  main  sally  port,  where  the  sculptured 
arms  of  Spain  still  braved  the  passing  years,  that  Lori- 
mer  whispered:  "  We  are  at  last  on  the  enemy's  soil." 

Even  in  an  hour's  rambling  over  the  little  settlement, 
doubt,  suspicion  and  malevolent  distrust  hung  around 
the  three  strangers. 

Natives  clad  in  a  single  garment,  dangling  the  mur 
derous  machete  from  a  rawhide  girdle,  followed  them, 
and  a  loafing  squad  of  soldiers  sullenly  ordered  them  out 
of  the  ruined  Omoa  Castle,  whose  exquisite  old  bronze 
guns  lay  around  as  they  fell  when  tumbled  into  the  dry 
ditch  by  the  wrathful  blue-jackets  of  indignant  John 
Bull.  For  with  all  John's  money  plethora  and  time 
serving  commercial  spirit,  there  is  a  considerable  tide 
of  life  in  the  old  lion  yet. 

I  doubt  me  not  it  would  to-day  take  at  least  two 
first-class  powers  to  twist  the  tail  of  the  British  lion  to 
a  finish !  Albion's  steel  floating  fighting-boxes  are  still 
manned  by  English  tars,  and  Tommy  Atkins,  as  heard 
of  at  Rorke's  Drift  and  El  Teb,  can  do  far  grimmer 
work  than  mystifying  pretty  nurse  girls  in  London 
parks  with  those  natty  canes  and  those  "skin-tight  sojer 
clothes." 

"This  is  a  good  place  to  get  out  of,"  suggested 
Lorimer.  "  I  am  now  familiar  enough  with  the  sugar- 
rum  booths,  unhung  scoundrels,  banana  groves  and 
brush  huts  each  tenanted  by  a  score  of  '  missing 
links.'" 

Tony  Lemaire  was  soon  dragged  away  from  a  crowd 
of  compadres  and  comadores  and  instructed  to  "  up- 
sail  "  and  make  for  Congrehoy  Peak,  towering  ten 
thousand  feet  above  the  rocky  plateau  where  old  Trux- 
illo  gleams  out  white  among  the  clustered  palms 
around  the  stately  old  fortress  where  once  the  haughty 
Spanish  garrison  discharged  their  culverins  vainly  at 
saucy  Henry  Morgan. 

The  moldering  council   halls,  broken  convent  arches 


178  HIS   CUBAN    SWEETHEART. 

and  squalid  barracks  still  speak  of  the  romance  of  the 
old  times  and  the  frowzy  death-in-life  of  the  days  of  a 
ghastly  imitative  republic  effort.  Honduras,  the  slave 
of  the  military  jackanapes  dictator,  is  the  refuge  of 
the  vile,  thrust  out  from  all  other  lands.  And  its  sad 
supremacy  of  filth,  villainy  and  degeneracy  remains 
unchallenged  by  any  other  autonomy  on  the  Western 
continent. 

"  There's  a  good  deal  of  country  here,"  remarked 
Doctor  Abercromby,  as  he  gazed  two  days  later  on  the 
shining  beach  with  its  fruit  groves  stretching  forty  miles 
along  the  rocky  plateau,  the  purple  sierras  towering 
far  above. 

"  Wait  till  you  get  over  a  few  of  the  ranges  and  you 
will  see  more  of  this  delectable  land,"  rejoined  Nixon. 
"A  paradise  on  earth,  as  the  writer  of  that  exquisite 
little  funny  tale,  '  Millions  in  Bananas,'  paints  it." 

"I  shall  be  pleased  to  get  in  and  get  out, "  laughed 
Lorimer,  but  his  blue  eyes  were  keenly  fixed  beyond 
the  serrated  line  which  parted  them  from  the  lost  treas 
ure  of  Maracaibo. 

And  in  a  half  hour  they  stood  on  the  silver  strand 
where  Cortez  had  marshaled  his  men,  and  wandered  up 
the  rocky  road  where  that  ill-placed  Napoleon  of  des 
tiny,  Filibuster  Walker,  went  "with  bloody  hands  to  a 
hospitable  grave."  Strange,  restless  war-hawk  of 
peace  times!  Had  the  Tennessee  journalist-lawyer 
lived  ten  years  longer,  Forrest  and  John  Morgan 
would  have  been  pushed  hard  for  the  divided  laurels 
of  the  "dare-devil  of  the  Southern  Confederacy." 

William  Walker's  memory  is  now  fading  away.  Silent, 
reserved,  slight,  gray-eyed  and  thin-lipped,  he  was  a 
grim  duellist  with  Fate — to  the  death!  He  only  needed 
one  last  smile  of  fickle  fortune  to  have  climbed  that 
single  step  which  separates  the  adventurer  from  the  hero 
of  history.  For,  alas,  principles  are  nothing.  Success 
alone  is  the  modern  touchstone. 

The  white  stars  gleamed  down  on  the  three  friends 
that  night  as  they  left  the  great  mongrel  drinking  saloon 
of  the  one  hotel  of  the  town  to  find  coolness,  safety  and 
tranquillity  in  the  open  square,  sullenly  eyed  by  the 
prowling  Hondurean  night  guards. 


HIS    CUBAN    SWEETHEART.  179 

"If  money  will  buy  mules,"  energetically  said  Aber- 
cromby,  "let  us  all  sleep  al  fresco  on  the  trail  to 
morrow  night,  for  we  will  be  followed  out  of  here  as 
'sure  as  shootin,'as  the  Yankees  say." 

And  so  the  morning  lark  found  them  convulsing  the 
mule  market  with  Frenchy's  energetic  bargaining;  for 
he  sighed  also  to  be  three  marine  leagues  away  off  shore. 

"Bad  a  town!  Sacre  voleurs!"  he  wrathfully  re 
peated,  as  he  rolled  off  his  denunciations  of  the  rascally 
animal  peddlers. 

At  sunset  the  three  young  men  strolled  across  the 
square  of  Truxillo  with  Captain  Tony  Lemaire.  They 
were  the  proud  possessors  of  ten  little  mules  resem 
bling  enlarged  jack-rabbits. 

A  couple  of  peasant  muleteers  were  engaged  por  el 
viaje ;  then  the  friends  walked  down  to  the  beach  as 
the  day  was  declining. 

They  were  ready  for  their  journey  to  the  interior. 
Frenchy  had  sent  them  a  faithful  amphibious  cook  ; 
also  a  familiar  of  his  who  was  an  Admirable  Crichton  of 
general  utility,  besides  having  an  excellent  record  as  an 
"all  around  "  fighting  man. 

They  turned  at  the  edge  of  the  rocky  plateau  and 
then  gazed  at  the  eight-thousand-foot  sierras  towering 
gray  and  wildly  heaped  up  to  the  far  west. 

"To-morrow  night  you  climb  canon  there,  an  old 
Cortez  stairway.  Ah  !  Dam  quel  rude  voyage.  I 
came  out  on  sea,  run  down  to  Cape  Gracian  a  Dios, 
buy  a  load  hides  and  buckskins.  I  come  back,  wait 
here  till  you  come  !  "  remarked  Frenchy,  who  was  glad 
to  get  out  of  Truxillo.  Old  smuggling  tricks  rose  up 
against  him.  "Well,"  he  said,  as  a  burly  sailor  toiled 
up  the  steep  road,  "when  you  come,  Morales  ?" 

Then  the  stranger  and  Frenchy  exchanged  much 
strange  gibberish. 

The  young  men  walked  home  an  hour  later  and  killed 
time  gazing  on  the  bay,  where  a  fruit  steamer  and  a 
gaunt  three-masted  schooner,  just  arrived,  gave  an  air 
of  nautical  life,  the  Beauregard  being  the  only  other 
craft  dancing  on  the  blue  waters  beside  them. 

"You  say,  Tony,"  remarked  Lorimer,  "that  that 
craft  hails  from  Havana?" 


I  So  HIS    CUBAN    SWEETHEART. 

"No,  from  Matanzas,  senor. " 

"Matanzas  !  I'm  glad  we  leave  in  the  morning," 
said  Nixon  suddenly,  almost  anxiously. 

Late  into  the  night  the  three  chums  labored  in  the 
Hotel  Paseo  in  adjusting  the  loads  and  packs  of  the 
beasts  of  burden  and  in  making  all  "ship-shape"  for 
the  personal  outfit  carried  by  each.  The  two  mule 
teers  drove  the  animals  afield  and  vowed  by  Todos 
los  Santos  !  to  show  up  with  the  morning  star. 

"I  am  glad  that  our  cook  and  fighting  man  will 
sleep  with  all  the  plunder,"  remarked  Lorimer,  as  the 
three  men  were  about  to  retire  to  fight  mosquitoes  and 
wait  for  the  hour  of  reveille. 

A  most  tempting  bait  in  the  line  of  saddles,  mining 
gear  and  provisions  lay  around  the  little  storeroom 
assigned  them. 

"Better  hide  away  all  your  watches  and  valuables, 
senores,  or  leave  them  in  my  safe,"  said  burly  Juan 
Crespo,  the  boniface.  "I've  known  men  to  be  cut  in 
pieces  with  a  machete  for  a  single  silver  dollar  up 
there  where  you  are  going."  The  host  jerked  his 
thumb  most  contemptuously  toward  the  canino  real 
stretching  out  toward  far  Tegucigalpa,  twenty  days' 
march  away. 

These  remarks  tended  to  make  their  sleep  restless, 
the  mosquitoes  presiding  at  their  unquiet  dreams. 

"I  wonder  if  we  will  be  followed?  "mused  Nixon  next 
morning,  as  he  gazed  at  their  road-agent  outfit;  rifle, 
revolver,  knife  and  cartridge-belts  being  the  adornment 
of  each,  with  a  pair  of  cart-wheel  spurs  and  the  inglo- 
rioussun  helmet  which  defies  even  Garnet  Wolseley,  Lord 
Roberts  or  Stanley  Africanus  to  look  stately. 

Then  in  the  pearl-gray  mist  of  morning  the  young 
men  rode  four  hours  along  the  shell-strewn  beaches, 
watching  the  diminutive  mules  trot  away  nimbly  under 
their  packs.  At  Bella  Vista,  when  they  turned  and 
gazed  back  toward  the  noble  bay  and  Truxillo  Point, 
the  Beauregard  looked  like  a  wind-blown  cloud  of 
silver  out  on  the  blue  sea;  but  the  Cuban  three- 
master  was  still  there  riding  at  anchor  off  the  fortress. 

Looking  on  the  schooner  Nixon  growled:  "Captain 
Morales  from  Matanzas,  for  a  load  of  cattle,  and 


HIS   CUBAN    SWEETHEART.  l8l 

Frenchy  says  the  town  is  filled  now  with  desperate 
Cuban  criminals  and  refugees.  We  must  be  very  wary. 
Who  knows?"  Then  he  lost  himself  in  vain  musing 
as  he  toiled  up  the  steep  pass. 

He  scented  danger  once  more.  A  vague  feeling  he 
could  not  explain  possessed  him  of  terrors  hovering 
far  beyond  the  blue  Sierras  there  above  them.  Cuba 
brought  back  sad  memories. 

Step  by  step  the  sure-footed  mules  picked  their  way 
up  the  narrow  stairway,  where  rocky  steps  had  been 
cut  by  Indians  bleeding  under  the  lash  of  the  Spanish 
conquerors  three  hundred  years  before.  Dizzy  and 
nerve-numbed,  they  ceased  to  gaze  into  the  awful  gorges 
whose  edge  was  but  a  yard  away,  and  a  gloomy  silence 
fell  on  them  under  the  wild  tropic  jungle  trees. 

By  nightfall  they  had  entered  a  gorge  leading  down 
toward  the  hillocks,  sloping  toward  the  valley  of  the 
great  Aguan.  On  a  smooth  stretch  of  a  few  hundred 
yards,  the  feet  of  a  galloping  animal  had  plowed  great 
sliding  marks  in  the  dark  wet  earth. 

Nixon's  theory  as  to  the  chances  of  being  followed 
was  correct,  but  none  of  the  brave-hearted  Americans 
even  dreamed  that  a  lad  with  gleaming  coal  black  eyes 
and  wind-blown  hair  had  dashed  along  at  daybreak, 
racing  toward  the  plains  of  Sonaguera  and  El  Jicaro; 
muttering,  "I  will  keep  ahead  of  them — out  of  their 
way,  and,  Madre  de  Dios,  I  will  have  my  revenge!  " 

For  neither  the  glittering  knife  nor  keen  machete  he 
carried  was  whetted  as  sharp  as  the  mad  thirst  for 
vengeance  borne  by  the  dark-faced  young  rider  whose 
left  shoulder  yet  twitched  in  the  night  air  with  reminis 
cences  of  a  pistol  bullet. 

Strange  dreams  of  foreboding  haunted  Nixon's  pil 
low  that  night. 

Three  days  later,  toil-worn  and  uneasy,  the  friends 
gazed  upon  the  mighty  Aguan,  its  banks  breaking 
away  in  vast  forest  groves  to  the  northwest,  where  the 
Jocon  and  Mangalile  mountains  showed  their  sharp 
blue  peaks  in  air,  a  hundred  miles  away. 

A  squalid  hamlet  with  a  couple  of  circular  bush  cor 
rals  on  a  mount  fifty  feet  high,  crowning  a  point  jutting 
into  the  Aguan,  was  the  night  station. 


182  HIS    CUBAN    SWEETHEART. 

A  dozen  men  and  women  lounged  around  the  filthy 
interior  of  the  main  hut.  Hammocks  strung  thickly 
side  by  side  sheltered  an  old  crone  and  a  half-delirious 
fever  patient.  Around  an  earth  oven  two  dark-browed 
scoundrels,  armed  to  the  teeth,  were  insolently  famil 
iarizing  themselves  with  several  slatternly  Honduranean 
women. 

Sullen  aversion  had  marked  the  arrival  of  the  seven 
strangers  with  their  band  of  laden  mules. 

Through  dry  wastes,  baking  logwood  groves,  gloomy, 
tangled  morasses  and  squalid  huts  had  marked  their 
path;  no  noise  save  the  yell  of  the  mountain  tiger  or 
the  chattering  of  monkeys  and  screaming  of  macaws 
had  disturbed  them. 

The  great  tropical  primeval  forest  of  the  Aguan  lay 
spread  out,  steaming  below  them  and  stretching 
hundreds  of  miles  up  and  down  its  tortuous  banks. 
Fairy  orchids  bloomed  on  the  giant  mahogany  trees, 
swinging  on  graceful  vines;  fronded  ferns  were  parted 
by  the  gorgeous  plumage  of  the  chattering  tropic 
birds;  every  witchery  of  nature  had  made  these  silent 
forests  worthy  of  a  Dore's  pencil.  But  in  all  this  beauty, 
the  waters  below  lay  black  and  poisonous  in  the  rotting 
lagoons,  where  the  cayman  eyed  the  fetid  coils  of  the 
enormous  boas,  and  every  thorn  thicket  had  its  poison 
ous  snake  or  steel-fanged  creeping  things. 

The  fever  breath  was  wafted  around  them,  and  now 
at  nightfall  a  thousand  wild  discordant  screams  told  of 
the  sleepless  hell  of  the  tropic  forest. 

"I  don't  like  the  looks  of  this  dirty  hole,"  said 
Nixon,  as  the  three  friends  saw  the  black  night  fold 
them  in  among  the  squalid  scoundrels. 

Lorimer  and  Abercromby,  too,  were  gloomy.  "One 
of  us  had  better  sleep  and  the  other  two  watch ;  our 
two  Beauregard  men  must  also  relieve  each  other 
with  the  cattle,"  suggested  Frank. 

The  steaming  night  wore  on  as  the  friends  slung 
their  hammocks  from  the  rough  beams  of  the  shed  and 
sighed  for  the  "flesh-pots"  of  New  York;  for  their  fire 
furnished  forth  a  camp  supper  from  the  reserve  canned 
provisions. 

Dogs  and  pigs  strayed  in  to  the  hut  through  the  open 


HIS    CUBAN    SWEETHEART.  183 

doors.  The  wild  forest  tumult  screamed  indistinctly 
around  them,  while  the  rushing  Aguan  murmured 
hoarsely  below.  The  rum  bottle  and  mescal  calabash 
were  busied  in  the  dirty  little  station,  where  the  brutish 
murmurs  and  coarse  chuckles  of  the  wild  vaqueros 
and  their  hard-faced  slatterns  dominated  the  more 
distant  noises  of  the  jungle. 

In  the  valley  below,  Lorimer  had  noted  a  single  tele 
graph  wire  strung  along  the  lonely  trail,  it  was  the 
last  link  binding  them  to  the  seashore.  All  else  was 
primeval,  savagery  not  a  whit  reduced  by  man's  brut- 
ishness. 

"  How  far  may  we  have  to  drive  ourselves  into  this 
tropic  horror  yet  before  we  reach  the  tunneled  point 
of  the  Mangalile  ? "  mused  Nixon,  leaning  on  his  rifle 
at  the  angle  of  the  hut.  He  raised  his  repeater  as  a 
dark  form  suddenly  glided  to  his  side.  But  with  finger 
on  trigger  he  paused. 

It  was  the  Beauregard's  fighting  man.  He 
grasped  Nixon's  arm,  and  the  brooding  depression  of 
the  night  was  now  realized  in  the  hidden  foe's  first 
snaky  movement. 

"  Wake  all  our  friends  silently,"  whispered  the  out 
lying  man.  "A  dozen  thieves  have  stampeded  all  our 
mules.  We  are  helpless  in  the  forest  now." 


184  HIS    CUBAN    SWEETHEART. 

CHAPTER  XITI. 

THE  AMBUSH  ON  THE  AGUAN. 

"WAIT  a  moment,  Baxter,"  answered  the  excited 
Nixon,  as  he  joined  the  startled  watcher  in  the  dark 
shade  of  the  palm  sheds  around  the  hut.  "  Before  we 
make  a  break  let  us  hear  all  your  story. "  He  slipped 
his  big  revolver  around  to  the  front  and  quietly  tested 
the  action  of  his  Winchester. 

"Easy  enough  to  see,"  growled  Baxter.  "It's  a 
case  of  put-up  job.  This  is  one  of  the  worst  murder 
holes  on  the  Aguan,  and  many  a  murdered  man  has  been 
pitched  into  the  river  from  these  bluffs.  Cayman  teeth 
wipe  out  all  knife  and  bullet  marks  very  easily.  These 
chaps  have  posted  some  fellows  to  run  off  with  our 
stock.  Very  likely  some  one  who  is  dead  down  on  your 
mining  projects." 

Nixon  started! 

This  idea  had  not  yet  materialized  in  his  mind.  He 
had  only  thought  of  the  gracefully  loose  custom  of 
horse-stealing  which  hangs  as  a  modest  wreath  around 
the  sunburned  neck  of  the  average  Honduranean. 

"They  want  to  dump  you  down  here  discouraged 
and  have  your  party  turn  back,"  concluded  the  irate 
Baxter,  known  over  the  Mississippi  valley  and  the 
Gulf  by  the  curt  designation  "Tough."  "There's 
only  two  things  to  do.  One  is  throw  up  the  game. 
The  other  is  to  jump  these  fellows  at  once,  and 
if  they  don't  find  our  mules,  then  to — take  theirs. 
There's  a  band  now  in  the  corral.  If  we  force  them 
to  find  our  stray  animals  they  will  soon  offer  to 
mount  us,  and  then  try  to  lie  their  way  out  of 
this  affair.  Choose  quick,  boss!"  Then  he -ran  on: 
"  If  these  fellows  are  allowed  to  scatter  they  might 
ambush  us.  Now  we've  got  'em.  Ten  minutes  later 
we  will  lose  our  only  chance.  Yor  the  first  man  who 
leaves  this  here  jacal  will  turn  out  their  own  mules  in 
the  corral,  and  then  these  liars  will  pretend  theirs  have 
been  run  off  too.  Do  you  catch  on?" 


HIS    CUBAN    SWEETHEART.  1.85 

Nixon  caught  on.  He  jerked  out  his  army  revolver 
and  grasped  his  rifle  in  the  left  hand.  "  How  shall 
we  do  it?"  he  whispered  eagerly.  "  Two  of  them  are 
heavily  armed.'' 

"  Oh,  easy  enough,"  confidently  replied  Baxter. 
"  I'll  sneak  our  men  out  and  then  we'll  all  sing  out  our 
alarm.  As  they  come  out  we'll  bag  them  one  by  one. 
I've  a  riata  handy  here  and  I'll  tie  their  arms  till  we 
have  a  palaver." 

"Go!"  said  the  doctor,  determinedly.  In  his  heart 
of  hearts  he  had  sworn  to  see  that  tunneled  nose  of 
the  Mangalile  mountain,  for  the  sake  of  the  dear  blue- 
eyed  Nixie  of  Fishkill. 

The  young  American's  heart  thumped  loudly  as  he 
breathlessly  waited  the  safe  return  of  Baxter. 

In  a  moment  the  others  were  with  him. 

"Quick,  now,"  he  whispered,  as  the  "sea  cook" 
turned  up  on  the  run  with  his  rifle  at  a  trail  and 
Tough  Baxter  glided  back,  as  serpent-like  as  Uncas. 
' '  We'll  get  them  first ;  then  make  our  plans  afterward !" 

With  their  weapons  ready  the  whole  party  softly 
glided  up  to  the  great  adobe  where  the  slatternly 
daughters  of  Venus  still  snored  over  the  emptied 
mescal  bottles.  Then  the  staccato  voice  of  Baxter 
was  raised  in  an  unearthly  yell  as  he  discharged  one 
barrel  of  his  revolver. 

The  plan  worked  to  a  charm. 

A  startled  throng  came  pouring  out  of  the  one  low 
entrance,  as  a  frightened  old  crone  waved  a  burning 
brand!  The  next  moment  cursing  and  imprecations 
arose  from  the  men,  who  were  neatly  lariated,  one  by 
one,  by  Baxter,  while  the  four  other  Americans  bound 
them  and  kicked  the  weapons  of  the  disarmed  scound 
rels  into  a  heap. 

In  five  minutes  the  American  army  of  occupation 
had  arranged  its  sullen  captives  on  one  side  of  the  hut, 
all  securely  roped.  Baxter  and  the  cook  guarded  the 
dozen  or  more  women  of  the  Spanish  party  and  the 
door  was  also  securely  barred. 

Lights  had  been  tremblingly  lit  by  the  venerable 
crone  who  was  head  witch  of  this  devil's  hostelry. 

As   his    party    stood,    back    to    back,     watching  all 


l86  HIS   CUBAN    SWEETHEART. 

quarters  of  their  stronghold  with  ready  revolvers, 
through  James  Nixon's  mind  camt.  one  startling,  se 
cret  conviction.  "It  is  that  cursed  priest's  work.  In 
some  fatal  imprudence  we  have  unveiled  ourselves  and 
the  whole  scoundrel  scum  of  Honduras  will  hold  up  the 
hands  of  this  avenging  Moses." 

Frank  Lorimer  looked  at  his  watch.  "Half  past 
two,"  he  muttered  in  English.  "  We  cannot  move  be 
fore  five.  Suppose  that  we  should  be  attacked  here, 
what  shall  we  do?  " 

There  was  a  grim  silence  until  Tough  Baxter  very 
practically  remarked:  "Shoot  all  these  fellows  on  the 
inside  first,  and  then  a  good  bunch  of  the  ones  on  the 
outside.  We  have  dead  loads  of  cartridges." 

This  wholesale  proposed  application  of  the  Lex 
Talionis,  though  horrible,  seemed  about  the  only  thing 
to  do. 

"  If  we  shoot  a  hundred  greasers,  that  won't  make 
mule  meat  out  of  them,"  lazily  remarked  the  "sea 
cook." 

"  By  Jove  !  "  sharply  cried  Frank  Lorimer,  "  we 
must  go  out  at  once  and  secure  mules  enough  to  get 
out  of  this  murder  trap." 

Baxter's  calm  voice  was  heard.  "  Let  us  all  leave 
here.  Fetch  the  whole  gang  down  to  the  mule  corral. 
Light  a  fire  there  and  tie  these  men  up  to  the  nearest 
bush  fence.  If  there's  any  ambush  they'll  get  shot 
first.  We'll  keep  in  the  shadow." 

"  And  our  baggage  ?  "  remarked  Abercromby. 

"  Oh,  easy  enough.  We'll  make  this  gang  tote  all 
our  belongings  down  there." 

"But  what  shall  we  do  at  daybreak  ?"  demanded 
Nixon. 

"There's  only  one  thing  to  do,"  remarked  the 
guide.  "  We've  got  a  nasty  lot  of  forest  and  ravines 
and  defiles  to  go  through,  and  the  Aguan  to  cross  be 
sides,  to  get  on  to  Sonaguera.  Push  out  at  daybreak. 
Make  these  fellows  lead  their  own  extra  mules  on,  and 
pack  all  our  things  besides.  We  will  ride  the  best  of 
theirs.  If  there's  any  ambush  I  will  see  they  get  the 
first  dose.  Besides,  their  frends  will  hardly  kill  them 
just  to  get  the  show  of  a  fight  out  of  us.  When  we  get 


HIS    CUBAN    SWEETHEART.  187 

to  Sonaguera,  then  we  will  turn  in  the  whole  gang  to 
the  Alcalde  there.  He  will  be  afraid  of  a  row  with  the 
American  consul.  You  can  just  bluff  the  life  out  of 
him.  He  will,  anyway,  let  you  take  these  fellows' 
mules  till  they  find  yours.  I  will  bet  my  bottom  dollar 
these  chaps  will  find  those  mules  yet.  I'll  jabber  away 
at  them.  Don't  you  gentlemen  let  on  you  know  any 
Spanish." 

There  was  sense  in  his  rough  words.  "Baxter,  you 
are  a  born  strategist,"  remarked  Nixon,  admiringly. 
"  Where  did  you  pick  up  your  generalship? " 

"Oh,  I  was  one  of  General  John  Morgan's  men! 
We  rode  half  over  the  State  of  Ohio  and  drank  up  all 
the  old  women's  buttermilk,  as  well  as  walked  off  with 
the  fattest  horses  and  the  farmers'  gold  watches.  We 
were  gay  old  '  rebs, '  you  bet,"  returned  the  ex-guer 
rilla,  as  he  calmly  lighted  a  cigar. 

In  half  an  hour  the  transfer  was  duly  made.  Then 
Tough  amused  himself  by  making  one  Honduranean 
bravo,  with  his  arms  loosely  pinioned,  point  out  the 
very  best  riding  mules  of  the  score  of  animals,  as  the 
old  woman  drove  them  past  one  by  one 

The  long  hours  till  dawn  dragged  slowly  along  and 
the  three  friends  watched,  lying  ready  on  their  arms, 
while  Baxter  forced  the  sullen  prisoners  to  place  the 
packs  on  all  the  mules  and  then  caparison  the  riding 
animals. 

"  It's  about  light  enough  now  to  travel,"  said  the 
ex-guerrilla.  "When  these  old  women  have  filled  our 
canteens  and  boiled  us  some  coffee  we'll  make  a  break 
for  Sonaguera.  But  on  this  road  it's  mind  your  eye 
and  shoot  quick!  " 

Coffee  being  over,  Baxter  slipped  away  to  the  de 
serted  adobe  on  the  hill.  He  returned  with  a  beaming 
face.  Then  he  chuckled,  "  No,  I  was  not  a-sayin'  my 
prayers.  I  have  just  chucked  all  them  shooting-irons 
and  machetes  down  into  the  whirlpool  of  the  Aguan, 
under  the  hill.  So  all  these  ruck  and  truck  can  get 
back  to  their  hole." 

With  this  he  dismissed  the  women  with  a  paternal 
smile. 

Howls  and  wails  arose  as  the  men  were  forced  away 


l88  HIS   CUBAN    SWEETHEART. 

by  their  captors,  and  the  two  unkempt  daughters  of 
Venus  loudly  lifted  up  the  voice  of  lamentation. 

An  hour  later  Tough  led  the  way  down  the  trail  to 
the  ford  of  the  Aguan,  some  eight  miles  distant. 
Two  men,  lashed  arm  to  arm,  sullenly  plodded  on  in 
front,  covered  by  the  poised  Winchester  of  the  tran- 
quil-souled  frontiersman  The  three  friends  rode  to 
gether  as  a  main  fighting  body  in  the  middle  of  the 
caravan,  and  the  alert  sea-cook  brought  up  the  rear. 

It  was  a  gloomy  and  a  sullen  morning  journey. 
Steaming  heat  arose  from  the  awaking  forest,  where 
strange  animals  scuttled  across  the  paths.  Myriads  of 
monkeys,  swarms  of  shrill-voiced  tropic  birds  and  dis 
tant  beasts  of  prey  made  the  echoes  of  the  dark  depths 
ring  again.  Every  eye  was  strained  as  the  somber 
shades  grew  denser,  and  the  cavalcade  slowly  toiled 
over  the  great  flat  to  the  ford  of  the  Aguan. 

At  ten  o'clock  a  sorry-looking  band  was  paraded 
on  the  shining  pebbly  bank  of  the  great  river,  at  this 
point  some  hundred  yards  broad. 

Baxter  alertly  reconnoitered  the  ford,  and  then 
returned  with  the  most  intelligent  prisoner  quailing 
under  his  keen  eye. 

"It's  all  O.  K. ,  gentlemen,"  he  said.  "We've  got 
a  clear  beach  on  the  other  side  to  come  out  on,  and 
there's  no  ambush  there.  I'll  just  put  these  fellows 
now  in  to  lead  the  mules  over,  and  the  cook,  ready  to 
fire  on  the  instant, will  follow  me  up.  You  could  cover 
our  whole  party  with  your  heavy  rifle.  If  there's  any 
firing,  then  cross  over  as  quick  as  you  can." 

In  ten  minutes  the  great  silent  stream  was  safely 
forded. 

"  I  have  made  up  my  mind  to  one  thing,"  laughed 
Frank  Lorimer  to  Abercromby  as  he  came  dripping 
out  of  the  knee-high  stream.  "I'll  never  travel  with 
out  that  ex-rebel  if  money  can  buy  him.  He's  a  Jim- 
Dandy,  that's  just  his  regular  size." 

For  the  fighting  man's  ready  wit  and  nerve  placed 
him  in  the  front  rank. 

Noon — high  noon — fiercely  burned  above  them,  the 
blazing  sun-rays  poured  down  through  trees  two 
hundred  feet  high,  when  the  toiling  cavalcade  at  last 


HIS    CUBAN    SWEETHEART.  189 

halted.  Immediately  in  their  front  was  a  long  sunken 
glen.  Beyond,  through  rifts  in  the  forest,  bare 
savannah  patches  showed  out  where  the  plains  rolled 
away  toward  distant  Sonaguera. 

Nixon's  Truxillo-made  map  showed  this  village  also 
to  be  a  military  and  telegraph  headquarters. 

As  they  halted  to  reconnoiter,  the  two  leading  pris 
oners  astounded  the  party  by  suddenly  falling  on  their 
knees  and  begging  Baxter  piteously  to  allow  them  to 
go  first  down  into  the  ravine. 

"  Here's  some  plant  !  "  quickly  remarked  the  scout 
as  he  peered  down  into  the  tropic  wilderness  below 
them. 

Then  Nixon  whispered  to  him,  and  the  Americans 
formed  the  sullen  prisoners  in  a  body  and  drove  them 
before  them,  still  bound,  down  the  slippery  path. 

"Now,  gentlemen,"  said  Baxter,  determinedly,  his 
old  rebel  spirit  rising.  "  Remember,  if  there's  trouble 
jump  off  and  fight  behind  your  mules.  We  must  stick 
closely  together.  I'll  watch  over  these  prisoners. 
Here,  give  me  one  of  your  extra  revolvers.  I  am  a 
little  quicker  than  some  of  you,"  he  grimly  added, 
stern  memories  coming  to  him  of  the  days  when  Mor 
gan  and  Gillem  fought  to  the  death  in  the  blue  Ten 
nessee  passes. 

Every  nerve  was  strained  as  they  picked  their  way 
down  the  flinty  hillside,  along  the  narrow  trail  where 
the  bushes  hung  so  closely  that  a  man's  face  was  invis 
ible  five  yards  away.  The  "seacock"  was  at  Baxter's 
side,  his  eyes  burning  with  the  light  of  battle.  In 
silence  they  strode  out  of  the  sun's  rays  into  the  depth 
of  the  ravine,  where  fern  and  palm,  tangled  vine  and 
dense  thicket  rose  around  a  gurgling  spring. 

Then  Baxter's  right  arm  suddenly  leveled  the  Colt 
six-shooter. 

There  was  a  deafening  roar,  a  chorus  of  yells,  then 
bellowing  echoes  and  shrieks  of  pain  as  a  cloud  of  blue 
smoke  drifted  over  the  trail.  The  rapid  ring  of  four 
Winchesters,  spitting  fire  to  right  and  left,  followed  the 
crack  of  the  ex-guerrilla's  ready  frontier  revolver;  he 
had  got  in  the  first  killing  shot.  A  moment  after  the 
concealed  thieves  in  ambush  poured  a  volley  into  their 


190  HIS    CUBAN    SWEETHEART. 

own  friends,  now  clumsily  stumbling  on  in  advance 
of  the  five  white  men. 

"Hold  hand  now,  cease  firing,"  ordered  Baxter, 
after  a  few  shots  from  each  rifle  had  thoroughly 
scourged  the  thicket.  "They  are  all  on  the  back 
track.  Press  forward  and  ford  this  little  stream.  Get 
up  as  fast  as  you  can  to  the  high  ground.  Quick,  for 
your  lives!" 

Urged  by  fear,  the  yelling  prisoners  drove  the  fran 
tic  pack  animals  rapidly  up  the  pass  to  save  their  own 
wretched  skins,  as  Baxter  with  the  game  sailor  of  the 
Beauregard  held  the  rear  and  waved  the  three  young 
men  on. .  Retiring  alternately,  they  each  dropped 
shot  after  shot  into  the  thicket  on  either  side. 

"  Let's  charge  the  thicket,"  shouted  Nixon,  his  Celtic 
blood  at  fever  heat. 

"Hold  up,  sonny,"  laughed  the  rebel  veteran. 
"Honduras  has  lost  two  good  "alizers  and  a  couple  of 
cripples  are  lying  wounded  down  below.  Now  ride  round 
at  once  and  gather  up  all  the  stray  animals.  We  will 
turn  these  other  fellows  loose  and  push  along  hard 
into  Sonaguera.  I'll  take  one  along  as  a  witness." 

With  this  he  sternly  motioned,  revolver  in  hand,  to 
one  of  the  frightened  wretches  to  mount  a  bridleless 
mule,  the  halter  of  which  he  held  in  his  hand.  The 
cavalcade  now  quickly  trotted  along  over  the  grassy  plain. 
"We  are  all  right  here,"  he  said,  as  they  reached  a 
rocky  natural  fort.  "We  c^uld  stand  fifty  of  these  fel 
lows  off  with  their  old  pot  metal  trading  guns." 

"And  what  will  we  do  at  the  town?"  demanded  the 
three  New  Yorkers  in  simultaneous  impulse. 

"  Oh,  leave  that  to  me,"  coolly  replied  Baxter.  "  I'll 
open  the  ball  with  the  Jefe  Politico  and  make  this 
frightened  beast 'tell  him  the  whole  truth."  With  this 
he  looked  the  unutterable  at  the  prisoner,  and  added  to 
Nixon:  "You  three  can  just  stand  by  and  play  injured 
innocence.  '  No  sabe  Espaiiol. ' ' 

There  was  a  hubbub  such  as  the  little  burg  never 
before  knew  when  Field-Marshal  Baxter  "  rounded  up  " 
his  formidable  command  at  the  alcalde's  door  in  Sona 
guera. 

In  ten  minutes  a  dozen  half-naked  soldiers,  led  by  a 


HIS   CUBAN    SWEETHEART.  Ipl 

much  bedizened  lieutenant,  were  loping  along  on  their 
way  back  to  the  scene  of  the  ambush.  The  village 
council,  quickly  convoked,  listened  to  an  impromptu 
oration  from  Mr.  Baxter,  which  outdid  the  memorable 
achievement  of  "  Single  Speech"  Hamilton.  The  story 
of  the  deft  "swiping"  of  the  mules  was  soon  made 
known.  During  the  frequent  intervals  of  a  three  hour's 
conference  Baxter  emerged  to  confer  with  the  four 
Americans  guarding  their  "plunder"  in  front  of  the 
official  domicile. 

The  telegraph  had  been  briskly  clicking  away,  and 
much  sudden  and  unwonted  energy  was  manifested  by 
various  long-haired  senoritasin  bringing  stores  of  eggs, 
tortillas  and  coffee  to  the  wondering  quartet.  The 
signs  of  Baxter's  potent  magic  were  but  too  evident. 

"He  will  soon  make  himself  president  of  this  ten- 
cent  republic,  and  go  ringing  down  the  halls  of  time," 
remarked  Abercromby,  as  the  voice  of  "  John  Morgan's 
man  "  rose  in  the  shrill,  nervy  falsetto  of  the  Southron. 

All  things  come  to  an  end,  and  when  El  Senor  Bax 
ter  was  escorted  out  by  the  junta  and  the  obsequious 
alcalde,  he  proudly  led  the  way  to  the  comandante's 
headquarters.  There,  under  the  guard  of  four  soldiers, 
the  luggage,  arms  and  ammunition  were  neatly  depos 
ited  on  the  floor  in  a  heterogeneous  pile.  .  Hammocks 
were  slung  for  rest,  and  through  the  open  doors  the 
women  and  babies  of  Sonaguera  gazed  in  admiration 
upon  the  Americanos,  who  were  voted  "  muy  bravos." 

Jt  was  a  neat  trick  of  his  evolved  leadership  which 
decorated  "  Tough  "  Baxter — first  name  still  unknown 
—with  a  huge  red  silk  sash. 

"Now,  gentlemen,"  said  he,  as  he  gayly  knotted  this 
spoil  of  war  from  the  dead ranchero around  him,  "stay 
together.  I  will  put  m  a  night  with  the  fair  senori- 
tas  and  the  ' ^enle  de  razon '  here,  and  if  I 
don't  locate  the  headland  we  want  to  find,  then 
it's  because  good  rum  has  lost  its  winning  charm 
and  won't  make  people  talk  down  here.  The  al 
calde  has  already  agreed  to  hold  the  extra  mules 
till  our  return,  and  says  to  go  right  on  ahead  with  those 
we've  swiped.  He  now  guarantees  the  recovery  of  our 
own  animals.  As  for  the  slight  blood-letting  he  only 


192  HIS    CUBAN    SWEETHEART. 

remarks  :  '  Muy  mala  gente  !  '  '  Served  them  right  ! '  I 
did  pile  it  on  a  bit.  I  spoke  of  our  American  fleet 
and  also  made  some  reference  to  General  Phil  Sheridan 
— of  gory  renown.  We  will,  moreover,  have  two 
soldiers  to  pilot  us  on  past  Arinal  and  by  Jocon  to  the 
forks  of  the  Aguan  and  the  Mangalile.  When  we  have 
found  the  place  we  want,  I  will  fool  with  these  fellows 
while  you  do  your  private  prospecting." 

The  tired  Baxter  then  treated  himself  to  a  half  go 
of  sugar  rum  "on  general  principles." 

"  But  as  to  our  return  ?  They  will  waylay  us  surely," 
gloomily  remarked  Nixon. 

"They  won't  waylay  us  any  more — not  a  little  bit — 
nary  a  time,"  crowed  Generalissimo  Baxter,  as  he 
gracefully  accepted  a  light  from  an  admiring  senorita 
lingering  at  the  door  and  gazing  on  his  manly  perfec 
tions.  "I  know  of  a  neat  little  cut-off  road  that  will 
take  us  back  to  Omoa  Bay  and  so  skip  Truxillo.  We 
can  telegraph  to  the  American  Consul  from  here 
on  our  way  back,  so  to  have  Captain  Tony  Lemaire 
hang  up  the  Beauregard  in  Omoa  Bay,  and  wait  for  us 
there." 

"  Baxter,  you  are  a  jewel,"  cried  Frank  Lorimer. 

"That's  what  my  girl  used  to  say,"  sighed  the  ex- 
rebel.  "But  she's  been  dead  and  gone  this  many  a 
year.  She  died,  poor  child,  of  a  broken  heart,  for 
every  man  in  her  family  fell  in  battle  for  Dixie's  land." 

He  walked  suddenly  away  as  if  to  gaze  over  the 
darkening  mountains,  but  the  look  in  his  eyes  told  the 
young  men  that  the  ex-Confederate  saw  once  again 
the  banner  of  the  "  Lost  Cause." 

"That's   a    brave    fellow, "  whispered  Abercromby. 

"  Yes,  they  were  dead  game  the  men  who  rode  with 
Jackson  and  with  Lee,"  sadly  mused  Nixon,  as  the 
days  when  brothers  butchered  each  other  anonymously 
came  back  in  sad  review. 

It  was  two  o'clock  before  "  Tough  "  Baxter  returned 
from  his  queer  symposium.  The  sound  of  revelry  by 
night  floated  out  from  the  open  doors  of  the  alcalde's 
mansion.  The  tuning  of  guitars  resounded  and  the 
strident  voice  of  the  Southerner  was  once  raised  in  song, 
"The  Bonnie  Blue  Flag." 


HIS   CUBAN    SWEETHEART.  193 

But  the  chronicler  as  well  as  the  sorrowing  Record 
ing  Angel  must  add  that  Tough  Baxter  came  back 
"  running  very  free  before  the  wind."  Yet  he  was  the 
bearer  of  a  precious  secret,  of  which  he  guarded  the 
sanctity  even  under  the  sway  of  the  wand  of  that  great 
god,  Bacchus,  who  has  caught  so  many  mortals  tripping. 

An  admiring  conclave  of  the  entire  population  es 
corted  the  five  Americans  and  their  two  muleteers  out 
of  Sonaguera  in  the  early  afternoon  of  the  next  day. 
As  they  started  the  alcalde  proudly  led  the  way  to  the 
calaboose.  There,  behind  a  grated  iron  door,  the  last 
evidence  of  the  plot  at  the  thieves'  haunt  lingered  in 
the  shape  of  a  heavily  leg-ironed  prisoner. 

Baxter  thoughtfully  gave  the  crest-fallen  scoundrel 
a  couple  of  packs  of  cigaritos,  a  pull  of  rum  and  some 
very  pithy,  good  advice. 

"  Hereafter,  amigo  mio,  let  all  traveling  Americans 
alone.  For  you  may  again  entertain  angels  unawares." 

The  beautiful  oaks  of  Sonaguera  plain  nodded  in 
friendly  shade  over  them  as  the  five  watchful  white 
men  rode  on  behind  the  escort,  the  muleteers  pushing 
along  the  captured  animals.  "Sweet  wonder"  filled 
the  eyes  of  the  three  friends  as  with  a  proud  modesty 
Generalissimo  Baxter  let  fall  the  various  pearls  of  local 
wisdom  he  had  gathered  in  the  brief  glories  of  that 
dazzling  night. 

"  I  am  a  pretty  solid  Honduranean  now,"  said  the 
Southerner.  "  The  great  thing  that  I  am  a  bit  proud 
of  is  that  I  have  very  fairly  located  the  place  we  are 
in  search  of.  There  is  really  such  a  big  mountain 
nose  as  you  describe  between  Jocon  and  the  little  town 
of  Mangalile,  and  these  soldiers  know  a  little  ranch 
station  right  on  the  top  of  the  ridge  near  what  they 
call  'Los  Disparamades,'  where  a  little  trail  leads  down 
to  the  river  bank.  There  was  some  queer  business  of 
the  olden  time  once  going  on  there,  for  one  of  the 
'  traveled  beauties  '  of  Sonaguera  filled  my  ears  with  a 
long-ago  yarn  about  the  'Witch  of  Mangalile,'  who  is 
supposed  to  haunt  that  old  cave  tunnel." 

"  Indeed!  Tell  us!  "  exclaimed  Nixon,  as  the  three 
friends  trotted  along  to  the  little  half-way  station  which 
was  to  end  this  day's  short  march. 


194  HIS    CUBAN    SWEETHEART. 

"Wait  till  we  get  into  camp,"  pleaded  the  repentant 
Baxter.  "  I  have  the  whole  scenery  in  my  mind,  and 
I'll  take  you  there  straight  as  an  arrow.  But  my  head 
is  awful.  This  climate  is  a  little  warm  for  drinking 
sugar  rum  of  ninety  degrees  proof.  I  did  learn  from 
a  very  buxom  and  matronly  charmer  that  this  same 
cave  was  once  a  favorite  smugglers'  resort.  It  is  not 
far  from  the  Guatemala  line,  and  tobacco,  cigars,  salt 
and  guns  have  been  of  ten  stowed  there,  waiting  a  chance 
to  run  them  over  the  mountains.  So  I  suppose  these 
bugaboo  stories  were  only  got  up  for  a  porpose. 
They  are  a  sly  lot  down  here." 

"How  long  will  our  march  be  ?"  queried  the  im 
patient  Lorimer. 

' '  Only  five  days  ;  "  but  we  have  two  terrific  mountain 
ranges  to  cross,  and  four  or  five  deep  Aguan  ford- 
ings." 

"  We  will  get  there  !  "  cried  the  three  New  Yorkers. 

So  a  wonderful  unanimity  reigned  among  them  as 
they  plodded  on.  For  the  wine  of  life  was  bounding 
in  their  young  veins,  and  dreams  of  treasure  trove 
haunted  their  tired  brains  long  after  Baxter  had  told 
them  the  story  of  the  Witch  of  Mangalile,  and  they 
were  enwrapped  each  in  his  dearest  dreams. 

As  he  lay  by  the  camp  fire  Doctor  Nixon's  mind 
wandered  away  to  past  scenes  of  trouble  and  danger. 
"  Who  is  now  on  our  trail  ?"  he  muttered.  "  I  might 
fancy  Padre  Guerra  would  certainly  dearly  love  to  pay 
us  off.  Impossible  !  And  the  boy  Valdes.  Far  away 
in  Cuba." 

While  his  companion  slept  Frank  Lorimer,  rifle  in 
hand,  gazed  out  on  the  chaparral  fringing  the  night's 
bivouac.  The  young  New  Yorker  marked  the  listless 
stride  of  their  admiring  sentinel,  who  muttered:  "  Muy 
bravos  los  Americanos,"  as  he  passed  by  the  lair  where 
the  four  white  men  lay  curtained  only  with  the  stars. 

The  face  of  Inez  Romero,  witching  in  its  noble  and 
plaintive  beauty,  then  rose  up  before  the  guardian  of 
the  night.  The  wailing  breeze  seemed  to  bear  a  strange 
call  to  her  side.  "  I'll  see  this  first  war-path  through," 
resolutely  murmured  the  gallant  Frank.  ' '  Win  or  lose, 
I  will  then  go  over  to  Paris  for — thank  God  I  have 


HIS    CUBAN    SWEETHEART.  195 

money  enough  to  make  Inez  my  wife — to  give  her  a  home. 
She  shall  forget  the  lost  emeralds.  Even  now  I've 
a  mind  to  vote  that  whole  story  an  infernal  humbug." 

He  paused  to  light  a  cigar  as  a  solace  to  his  despond 
ency.  "  I  don't  believe  there's  a  single  emerald " 

Then  he  started  wildly  as  the  crack  of  a  heavy  revolver 
roused  the  camp.  Half  blinded  by  the  glare  and  sud 
denly  startled,  he  was  unable  to  speak,  as  his  comrades 
rushed  to  his  aid,  for  the  alert  soldier  sentinel  had  thrice 
replied  to  the  fire  of  the  unseen  foe. 

"  It  is  useless  to  saddle  up,"  cried  Baxter,  with  ear 
to  the  ground.  He  had  caught  the  retreating  sound  of 
horses'  hoofs  on  the  gallop. 

"A  pretty  close  call,  squire,"  remarked  the 
ex-Confederate,  as  bullet  holes  in  Lorimer's  coat  and 
hat  were  discovered.  "You  wouldn't  do  for  the 
Comanche  country.  That  blaze  of  your  cigar  lighting 
would  have  cost  yourlife  down  there.  I  fancy  that  you 
can  see  now  why  we  old  '  rebs  '  only  chewed  tobacco  on 
sentinel's  post.  Then  he  added,  gravely,  "Gentlemen, 
this  is  no  ordinary  marauder.  We  are  followed,  dogged, 
and  by  some  one  with  a  bit  of  nerve.  But  for  his  haste 
this  would-be  assassin  would  have  potted  Lorimer 
here!" 

Anxious  faces  greeted  the  dawn,  as  with  the  morn 
ing  coffee  came  Baxter's  report  that  the  tracks  showed 
that  a  horseman  had  ridden  around  the  camp  stealthily 
for  hours  until  the  murderous  attack  on  Lorimer. 

"  It  clean  beats  me  !  "  said  the  veteran  raider,  slowly 
shaking  his  head.  "This  prowling  scoundrel  has 
ridden  on  ah&ad.  Are  we  waited  for  again  ?  And 
then  he  could  have  picked  off  the  soldier  sentinel  quite 
easily,  but  he  waited  for  one  of  you." 

Mr.  Baxter  walked  away  chewing  a  twig  in  deep 
thought,  and  most  carefully  examined  his  personal 
battery. 

The  three  New  Yorkers  saddled  their  mules  in 
silence.  "Can  it  be  Guerra'swork  ?"  growled  Nixon, 
as  he  spurred  out  in  the  lead.  But  he  dared  not  voice 
his  thoughts  to  his  moody  companions  as  they  rode  on 
over  the  sweltering  plains  toward  Olanchito. 

By  common  consent,  Baxter  was  made  the  leader  of 


196  HIS    CUBAN    SWEETHEART. 

the  march.  Each  river  ford  was  scouted,  every  tangled 
path  and  wild  logwood  grove  was  duly  scanned  as  they 
toiled  along. 

"  It  may  have  been  only  one  of  these  reckless  Olan- 
chito  thieves,"  thoughtfully  said  Baxter,  at  their 
noonday  rest.  "These  higher  valleys  furnish  the 
black  flag  '  no-quarter '  rebels  to  every  cut-throat 
revolutionary  general  here.  For  the  cruel  men  of 
Olanchito  never  spare  life.  They  are  tigers  for  human 
blood." 

That  night  the  jaded  adventurers  threw  themselves 
down  in  a  sullen  silence  as  they  sheltered  in  the  ver 
min-infected  adobe  offered  to  the  wayfarer  by  the 
authorities  of  Olanchito,  while  Baxter  made  a  call  upon 
the  alcalde. 

From  this  visit  he  returned  with  an  angry  brow. 
"  This  is  a  good  place — to  get  out  of !"  he  sardonically 
growled  "I  was  sharply  questioned  by  the  alcalde,  and 
he  seems  anxious  as  to  where  we  were  going  to  pros 
pect  and  other  impudence  of  the  kind." 

"What  did  you  say?"  asked  Lorimer. 

"I  met  his  lies  in  kind,"  said  Baxter,  as  ne  pro 
ceeded  to  swing  his  hammock.  "I  told  him  that  we 
were  going  on  over  the  range  to  the  Pacific.  That 
may  throw  him  off  our  trail.  There's  a  bad  lot  around 
here,  too.  But  we  won't  have  trouble  here  in  town." 

The  next  afternoon  the  serrated  line  of  the  huge 
Mangalile  mountains  rose  up  before  them. 

Over  burning  reaches  and  flinty  mesas,  past  huts, 
where  frowsy,  half -naked  natives  huddled  to  glare  at  the 
gringos,  the  cavalcade  toiled  slowly  along,  armed  at 
all  points  and  alert  for  the  sudden  attack. 

Then  the  ex-Confederate  halted  the  train  before  they 
swam  the  mighty  Aguan  for  the  last  time. 

"Here,  gentlemen,"  he  said,  "is  our  most  ticklish 
point  on  our  return,  whether  successful  or  unsuc 
cessful.  The  road  to  Yoro  and  Omoa  is  the 
same  as  far  as  the  summit  yonder,  forty  miles  away. 
We  will  camp  up  there  and  I  can  lead  you  through  the 
forest  by  a  short  line  to  Omoa,  where  the  Beaure- 
gard  awaits  us.  So  we  can  outwit  the  spies  on 
our  track,  for  they  will  'lay  for  '  us  on  the  return  road 


HIS   CUBAN    SWEETHEART.  197 

through  these  jungles  to  Truxillo.     But  we  must  hold 
this  secret  locked  in  our  breasts." 

"So  you  have  adventured  down  here  before?"  queried 
Nixon  in  amazement. 

"I  helped  to  bring  an  American  financial  fugitive 
secretly  over  from  New  Orleans,  "coolly  replied  Baxter. 
Up  there  I  delivered  him  over  to  the  escort  of  the  per 
sonal  representatives  of  the  then  all-powerful  tyrant 
President  of  Honduras." 

"And  the  President  here  protected  him?"  cried 
Lorimer  in  surprise. 

"  Certainly,"  smiled  Tough  Baxter.  "The  Don  got 
a  good  share  of  the  spoil.  They  are  hard  and  fast 
friends  even  yet." 

"Queer  country,"  mused  Abercromby.  "Very 
queer." 

"The  only  typical  hell  on  earth,"  cheerfully  said 
Baxter  as  they  rode  into  Arinal.  "  Here  is  the  very 
worst  cut-throat  nest  in  the  Land  of  the  Banana  ;  so 
let  us  keep  together  and  be  very  close-mouthed." 

Forty-eight  hours  later  the  band  of  adventurers 
straggled  into  Jacon,  walled  in  from  the  outer  world 
with  its  gigantic  mountain  ranges.  They  had  pain 
fully  toiled  over  an  enormous  sierra  where  even  the 
patient  mules  had  to  be  beaten,  along  over  the  narrow 
trails  threading  the  fearful  declivities.  High  up  in  the 
thin  blue  air  over  them  condors  wheeled  their  airy 
flight,  mere  specks  against  the  blazing  sun. 

Gloomy  pine  reaches  shrouded  them  in  the  mountain 
amphitheater  where  the  rude  crosses  and  growing  piles! 
of  memorial  stones  often  marked  the  graves  of  murdered 
wayfarers.  They  now  had  taken  their  last  glimpse  of 
the  great  Aguan  valley,  and  the  three  friends  on  the 
summit  of  the  ten-thousand-foot  divide  clasped  hands 
in  a  last  silent  compact  as  Baxter  pointed  to  a  blue 
notch  to  the  west. 

"There's  where  we  break  down  to  the  Mangalile 
River,"  he  said.  "  Our  journey's  end.  And  if  we  find 
your  old  cave  it  won't  take  us  long  to  discover  if  the 
beautiful  Indian  princess,  once  murdered  there,  has 
remained  to  keep  house  for  us." 

Then   they    thankfully    sought   the   shelter  of    the 


I9&  HIS    CUBAN    SWEETHEART. 

wretched  village  of  a  hundred  squalid  huts  and  a 
ruined  church. 

"It  is  a  grim  old  haunt  of  misery  and  ruin,  this  last 
village  in  the  lonely  mountains, "  signed  the  once  bright- 
hearted  Lorimer,  as  he  laid  his  weapon  in  readiness 
near  his  saddle  pillow.  And  the  wearied  toilers  slept. 
Far  above  them  rose  the  huge  ridge,  towering  in 
air  where  a  narrow,  dizzy  trail  led  along  to  the 
horrorsof  the  beetling  Disparamades, where  even  stout 
hearted  Cortez  quailed  as  his  men,  enfeebled,  fell, 
plunging  into  the  depths  of  the  Mangalile,  dashing 
themselves  to  pieces  thousands  of  feet  below. 

As  they  slept  under  a  double  guard,  waiting  for  the 
morn;  standing  by  a  little  watch  fire  on  a  cliff  twenty 
miles  away,  a  single  desperado  was  posted,  stealthily 
awaiting  their  toilsome  ascent. 

"If  they  escape  now  they  bear  charmed  lives,  these 
cursed  gringos,"  he  muttered,  as  he  enrolled  his  sad 
dle  swung  hammock  and  serape.  "I  must  work  the 
natives  if  they  find  the  plunder.  It  is  hidden  here 
somewhere,  andflarDwsf  I  will  have  it.  The  Indians 
must  help  me — and — hideme.  until  I  can  getaway!" 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

THE    MISSING    SIGNAL    FIRE. 

THE  stars  were  still  shining  on  the  roofless 
church  of  Jocon  when  Baxter  awakened  the  party. 
"We  will  need  all  the  time  we  have,  if  we  mean  to 
scale  the  crest  to-night,"  he  said,  as  he  tendered  the 
morning  coffee.  "Our  natives  are  driving  up  the 
mules.  I  calculate  to  strike  the  foot  of  the  mountain 
by  daybreak." 

Nixon  was  girding  up  his  loins  with  cartridge  belt,  as  a 
tremulous  old  Indian  sacristan  thanked  him  for  the 
douceur  paid  for  the  use  of  the  cloistered  shelter. 

"  Gracias,  muy  Sefior  mw,"  muttered  the  last  guard 
ian  of  Mother  Church.  "Beware  of  the  Disparamades 
— tigers  in  the  mountain — too.  Many  go  by — ah,  so 


HIS    CUBAN    SWEETHEART.  199 

few  return.  The  dreadful  witch  of  Mangalile  rules  over 
wild  savages.  The  canons  are  filled  with  the  bones  of  men 
and  animals  carried  down  into  the  chasms  by  accident; 
only  our  sure-footed  Indian  barefoot  runners  can 
tread  the  sides  of  the  great  slopes  where  the  treach 
erous  greasy  pine  needles  cover  the  six-inch  trail, 
where  the  Conquistadores  went  to  their  doom!" 

"What  is  this  old  tale  of  the  Witch  Mangalile?  " 
interrupted  Nixon,  hastily. 

"Ah,  seiior,  long  before  our  day  she  died,"  mum 
bled  the  sacristan.  "There  is  an  old  cave  in  a  great 
point  on  the  Mangalile — the  '  Devil's  Nose,'  our -mule 
teers  call  it.  There  sounds  and  unearthly  yells  echo 
up  the  ghastly  gorge;  no  one  dares  approach  it.  Padre 
Santos,  the  last  Vicar  of  Jocon,  told  me  that  the  accursed 
Buccaneers  hid  once  in  that  cave.  They  lured  a  beau 
tiful  captive  Indian  princess  to  guide  them  to  the  sea. 
Hiding  here  from  the  Spaniards,  they  made  rafts  to 
descend  the  Mangalile,  and  buried  their  treasures  in 
the  cave.  To  guard  it  they  killed  the  faithful  one, 
who,  led  by  love  for  their  captain,  had  guided  them  to 
where  they  could  reach  the  Aguan  on  their  rafts.  She 
was  soon  terribly  avenged,  for  the  native  savages  of 
the  Mangalile  slew  them  all.  Only  one  poor  wretch 
ever  reached  an  I:;dian  village  at  the  forks  of  the 
Aguan  to  tell  the  story.  The  murdered  one's  spirit 
yet  haunts  the  fearful  gorge.  No  one  returns  alive 
from  there. " 

"  Would  you  guide  me  there?  I  have  gold!  "  eagerly 
asked  Nixon. 

But  the  old  man  shuddered  as  he  crossed  himself. 
"Not  for  worlds!  Sea  por  Dios  y  la  Santissima!  The 
awful  Valley  of  Death  is  haunted."  And  the  sacristan 
fled  timidly  away,  as  his  auditor  was  called  to  business 
by  the  impatient  hallo  of  the  anxious  Baxter. 

Down  the  shadowy  river  path  they  spurred,  as  the 
dim  woods  became  vocal  with  the  discord  of  a  tropic 
forest.  Riding  by  Lorimer'sside  Nixon  told  the  quaint 
story  of  the  verger.  "This-  is  only  another  form  of 
the  leakage  of  the  strange  tradition  of  the  lost  '  Em 
eralds  cf  Maracaibo,'"  answered  Frank,  enthusiasti 
cally.  "Dead  or  alive,  I  will  tempt  the  Witch  of 


200  HIS    CUBAN    SWEETHEART. 

Mangalile!"  Then  in  grim  silence  they  toiled  on  till 
the  afternoon  sun  showed  them  a  rude  hut,  lifted  far 
up  in  the  blue  ether  on  a  spiral  ridge  sweeping  away  to 
the  west. 

The  chill  mountain  breeze  swept  wailing  through  the 
stunted  pines  around  them  as  they  stood  seven  thou 
sand  feet  above  where  the  faint  blue  smoke  wreaths 
curled  up  from  Jocon,  twenty  miles  away.  "Gentle 
men,  my  work  is  nearly  done,"  said  Baxter  shortly, 
"  for  the  Jocon  muleteers  tejl  me  that  the  'Devil's 
Nose  '  can  be  plainly  seen  from  the  end  of  this  ridge. 
There  is  a  spring  in  a  clump  of  cedars,  where  the 
Indian  runner's  trail  breaks  off  for  Tegucigalpa,  at  that 
point  we  must  leave  the  mules  with  a  guide  till  we  find 
the  way  down  the  cliff  to  the  river  bed." 

"  Can  we  not  descend  into  the  gorge  with  the  ani 
mals?"  anxiously  asked  Lorimer. 

"  Not  for  Joseph !  "  replied  the  guide,  "  We  will  have 
to  leave  one  Indian  and  a  volunteer  to  guard  the 
mules,  while  we  go  down.  If  any  accident  happens,  or 
we  are  delayed  in  your  prospecting,  we  can  then  get 
pinole,  dried  beef,  and  cassava  bread  from  Jocon,  by 
sending  bac4c  one  of  the  mounted  Indians.  To  risk 
losing  the  animals  might  mean  our  death  by  starva 
tion;  no  white  man  could  carry  supplies  up  this  ridge 
— it  is  the  very  worst  I  ever  climbed." 

For  an  hour  more  with  pallid  brows  and  panting 
breaths  the  group  struggled  on.  Then  Baxter,  in 
advance,  turned  and  swung  his  hat  in  triumph  as  he 
reached  a  rocky  knoll,  beyond  which  the  dark  cedar 
tops  marked  the  descent  toward  the  mysterious  Valley 
of  the  Margalile. 

"By  Heavens,  it  corresponds  with  the  map  of  the 
dead  Spaniard  !  "  gasped  Nixon,  as  he  sprang  off  his 
exhausted  animal. 

There  was  a  thrilling  silence!  Their  eyes  followed 
Baxter's  pointing  finger.  Then  their  senses  reeled  at  the 
sheer  descent  below  them  to  the  south,  where  the 
Mangalile,  a  shining  silver  thread,  glittered  in  the  last 
rays  of  the  sinking  sun. 

"While  you  look  around  a  bit,  I  will  examine  this 
cedar  clump  for  water.  We'll  have  to  camp  here 


HIS   CUBAN    SWEETHEART.  2OI 

sure, " doggedly  said  "Tough  " Baxter,  as  he  dispatched 
his  "  sea-cook  "  to  reconnoitre  all  the  approaches  to 
the  ridge. 

It  was  an  anxious  group  that  stood  around  Nixon, 
whose  fingers  trembled  as  he  drew  out  the  copy 
of  the  old  tracing  made  by  the  doomed  Francisco 
Aguilar  de  Romero.  With  a  pocket  compass  he  oriented 
the  sheet,  and  then  solemnly  said:  "  There  is  a  great 
point  like  unto  the  nose  of  a  man." 

Their  eyes  explored  the  blue  chasm  below,  where 
the  great  rock  ledge  ran  due  northeast. 

"  I  see  the  point  !  "  cried  Abercromby. 

Lorimer  was  already  exploring  its  face  with  his  sig 
nal  glass.  It  was  a  thrilling  moment. 

Crawling  on  his  hands  and  knees  out  to  the  edge 
of  the  cliff,  Abercromby  gazed  down  into  the  gorge  of 
the  Mangalile.  A  shout  of  triumph  from  Lorimer  at 
last  made  the  blood  bound  in  the  hearts  of  his  two 
companions.  "  There  is  a  cave  or  arched  hole  down 
there  near  the  point  where  the  river  turns." 

Standing  together,  where  the  dark  shadows  began 
to  veil  the  distant  winding  of  the  enormous  canon,  the 
three  friends  were  forced  to  cling  to  the  wind-swept 
ridge  summit. 

"  It  is  the  very  place,"  they  murmured,  as  Baxter 
returned. 

"  Let  us  get  down  into  the  little  pocket  here,"  cried 
the  frontiersman.  "  Our  animals  are  now  nearly  done 
for;  we  must  make  camp  for  the  night." 

Seated  around  the  gleaming  fire,  when  the  bivouac 
sepast  was  finished,  over  their  pipes,  the  Americans 
discussed  the  descent. 

"There's  but  one  way, "  said  the  sturdy  Baxter. 
"We'll  leave  the  cook  and  one  Indian  on  guard  here, 
the  other  can  go  with  us  as  messenger.  Taking  our 
lariats,  and  putting  our  outfit  in  the  raw-hide  ore 
bags,  we  can  take  four  or  five  days' supplies.  Our  men 
here  can  guard  the  rest.  We  can  make  fire  signals. 
I'll  arrange  that.  The  two  soldiers  must  also  remain 
until  we  send  word  back.  If  we  find  there's  no  way  to 
get  the  animals  down,  then  the  soldiers  can  escort  all 
back  to  Jocon  and  wait  for  us  there,  for  I  think  we  can 


2O2  HIS    CUBAN    SWEETHEART. 

get  around  the  headlands  and  follow  the  little  river 
to  Jocon.  It  looks  practicable  from  here." 

"But,  can  we  get  down  ourselves?"  said  Aber- 
cromby,  whose  view  of  the  awful  gorge  below  had 
almost  shaken  his  nerve. 

"  Oh  yes,"  calmly  said  Baxter,  "I  took  a  look  of 
the  hillside  a  bit;  with  the  lariats,  and  letting  the  packs 
slide  before  us  now  and  then,  I  reckon  we  can  make 
the  trip.  But  its  a  devil's  own  jumping-off  place.  It 
beats  the  Arcata  trail  out  in  California,  where  the 
government  mules  commit  suicide  in  disgust." 

"Our  guns, "  anxiously  said  Nixon,  still  fearful  of 
their  haunting  enemies. 

"Take  'em,"  replied  the  guide,  "and  if  we  have  to 
abandon  them  we  can  hide  them  in  the  cliffs.  The 
Indian  can  get  them  to  us  later;  these  fellows  climb 
like  goats.  Our  revolvers  and  knives  are  enough  to 
protect  us." 

"  Then  let  us  all  turn  in  !  "  suggested  Nixon,  "  for 
we  will  make  a  break  for  the  river  bed  the  very 
moment  it  is  daylight." 

The  mountain  eagles  Were  soaring  in  the  glittering 
sunbeams  when  Baxter  reported  all  ready  for  the 
descent  next  morning.  He  had  thoroughly  swept  the 
hillsides  with  the  glass,  and  found  the  well-marked  path 
of  the  larger  wild  animals,  driven  in  summer  to  seek 
the  shade  of  the  thickets  in  the  river  bottom  below. 

The  rude  packs  were  soon  adjusted,  and  the  five 
men  were  ready  to  begin  the  toilsome  descent.  The 
last  orders  were  hastily  given  to  the  detachment 
remaining  in  camp,  under  command  of  Baxter's  chum. 

"You  can  bet  on  me  to  the  last  gasp,  gentlemen," 
the  "sea-cook"  said  stoutly.  "I  will  make  the 
signals  agreed  on,  and  I  will  also  keep  a  smoke  rising 
from  the  top  of  the  highest  knoll  here  to  let  you  know 
that  all  is  well." 

Baxter  called  back,  good  humoredly,  "keep  an  eye 
on  those  mules,  too;  I  should  not  care  to  walk  back  to 
Truxillo." 

"You'll  find  me  with  'em"  were  the  last  words 
heard,  as  the  eager  explorers  plunged  down  the  slip 
pery  hillside,  bending  under  their  packs. 


HIS    CUBAN    SWEETHEART.  203 

It  was  a  journey  beyond  all  para'lel  To  gr  back 
was  impossible. 

In  half  an  hour  after  commencing  the  perilous 
descent,  the  desperate  nature  of  the  quest  made 
itself  but  too  apparent.  They  gazed  in  despair 
at  one  another  when,  with  hands  bruised  and 
bleeding,  they  lay  resting  on  a  narrow  rocky 
ledge.  Even  the  indomitable  Baxter  groaned — ''  This 
is  the  very  roughest  deal  I  ever  struck. " 

To  avoid  gazing  into  the  fearful  gorge  below,  they 
kept  their  eyes  fixed  on  the  walls  to  which  they  clunfe 
like  flies,  gazing  along  the  shelving  ledges,  where  even 
the  panthers  had  turned  back.  With  slung  rifles,  and 
aided  by  pointed  stakes,  trimmed  by  Baxter's  trusty 
Bowie  knife,  they  faltered  along,  clinging  with  hands 
and  feet  where  a  single  loose  rock  or  crumbling  stone 
meant  instant  and  horrible  destruction.  Lowering 
their  packs  in  advance,  they  threaded  the  narrow  ledges 
of  slippery  rock,  forcing  their  eyes  to  gaze  always  before 
them,  but  never  down,  until  seven  hours  from  their 
setting  forth,  they  bathed  their  heated  faces  in  the 
crystal  waters  of  the  mystic  Mangalile. 

They  lay  exhausted  by  the  river  for  half  an  hour  in 
a  gloomy  silence. 

The  bed  of  the  stream  was  obstructed  with  giant 
boulders.  Taking  up  at  last  their  march  toward  the 
great  bend,  they  painfully  scrambled  over  the  rock  and 
waded  through  the  water  toward  the  Devil's  Nose. 

Suddenly,  Baxter  in  the  lead,  halted,  and  threw  up 
his  hands  in  a  signal  of  amity.  The  others  started  in 
wonder,  as  a  frightened  troop  of  a  dozen  naked  Indians 
stood  in  the  way,  excitedly  barring  their  advance. 
The  unexpected  appearance  of  white  men  in  this  moun 
tain-walled  river  valley,  filled  the  children  of  the  forest 
with  wonder,  and  Baxter's  cry  of  "  Amigos,  Amigos !  " 
but  faintly  reassured  them. 

Long  slender  fish  spears,  tipped  with  barbed  flint, 
with  bows  and  arrows  of  a  rude  make,  were  their  only 
weapons. 

The  magical  effect  of  a  judicious  sampling  of  Bax 
ter's  canteen  finally  induced  the  reassured  natives  to 
become  the  porters  of  the  now  irksome  packs. 


204  H1S    CUBAN    SWEETHEART. 

The  afternoon  shadows  were  stealing  down  and 
throwing  strange  figures  of  giant,  grotesque  outline  on 
the  still  sunlit  walls  of  the  farther  chasm  when  the  five 
exhausted  cliff  sealers  threw  themselves  down  on  the 
river  drift  at  the  foot  of  the  Devil's  Nose. 

A  moment  after  Baxter  dragged  his  weary  bones 
around  the  point  and,  returning,  cried,  "  Sure  enough, 
this  old  pot  hole  here  runs  out  under  the  point  on  the 
other  side,  but  I  can't  see  daylight  through  the  tunnel." 

Five  minutes  later,  the  Indians  crawling  out,  torch 
in  hand,  reported  that  the  middle  of  the  old  subteranean 
causeway  was  choked  with  a  tangle  of  logs  and  river 
debris,  caught  on  a  great  black  stone  ledge. 

Then,  as  the  three  frieuds  lay  resting  their  aching 
bones,  their  eyes  wandered  back  to  the  beetling  crags 
of  Los  Disparamades  above  them,  saw  the  blue  smoke 
curling  up  from  the  knoll,  telling  them  that  all  was 
still  well  on  the  ridge. 

"  While  you  gentlemen  are  now  taking  a  bit  of  a 
rest,  I'll  prospect  the  canon  below,  a  bit,"  said  the  ex- 
rebel,  "  for  I  want  to  find  out  from  these  natives,  while 
we  have  our  hands  on  'em,  the  easiest  way  back  to 
Jocon.  I  know  that  we  could  never  get  up  those  cliffs 
again,  and  I  beg  you  to  guard  our  canteens  care 
fully,  for  rum  is  the  only  thing  t'>  keep  these  Indians 
near  us.  When  it  gives  out  they  will  be  off  like  a  shot. 
Rum  and  tobacco  are  the  only  hire  that  they  will  work 
for." 

The  Indian  attendant  had  already  built  a  fire  and 
was  busied  with  his  coffee  boiling  as  the  three  friends 
peered  into  the  darkened  opening  of  the  cave,  wherein 
the  Witch  of  Mangalile  held  her  phantom  court.  The 
two  entrances,  the  black  ledge  of  rock,  all  confirmed 
the  old  tale.  But,  the  emeralds!  Ah,  the  emeralds! 

Nixon  broke  the  silence,  as  he  rose  from  his  knees. 
"The  moment  has  come,"  he  said,  "to  take  Baxter 
into  at  least  our  partial  confidence.  Time  is  golden. 
To  clear  this  tunnel  we  must  avail  ourselves  of  the  help 
of  these  natives.  This  must  be  done  before  our  own 
slender  stores  of  rations  are  exhausted,  for,  buried  in 
this  frightful  gorge  here,  our  very  existence  is  at  stake. " 

There  was  no  dissenting  'word,  and  the  immediate 


HIS    CUBAN    SWEETHEART.  205 

exploration  of   the   cavern    was  decided.     The  guide 
was  loudly  called. 

"So  you  wish  to  explore  the  old  ghost  hole,'.' 
laughed  the  ex-guerrilla  when  he  listened  to  the  strange 
tale.  "All  right!"  With  ready  wit,  he  explained 
his  wishes  to  the  natives,  with  much  indicated 
promise  of  the  magic  fire-water,  and  a  sparing  prelim 
inary  distribution  of  tobacco. 

"We  are  safe  now,"  he  cheerfully  added,  as 
the  excited  natives  divided  at  once  into  two 
parties,  and  entered  like  foxes  the  archways  of 
the  cavern.  *  Lightly  scorning  Baxter's  offer  of 
candles,  the  forest  children,  returning  with  withes  of 
twisted  fiber  plucked  from  the  forest  groves,  deftly  lit 
them  from  fire  produced  by  knocking  together  pieces 
of  vitrious  quartz. 

"While  you  select  a  good  sheltered  place  for  our 
camp,  I  will  have  a  look  inside,"  remarked  the  indefat 
igable  scout. 

The  friends  were  all  busy  with  their  bivouac  labors, 
when  Baxter  joined  them,  laughing,  "It's  easy  enough 
to  read  the  riddle  of  the  haunted  cave,"  he  said,  as  he 
took  a  pull  at  the  flask.  "  The  sides  of  the  tunnel  are 
smoked  with  many  camp  flres  at  both  ends.  There 
is  also  debris  of  the  packages  in  which  salt,  tobacco, 
and  rum,  are  usually  handled  in  Honduras.  The  place 
has  certainly  been  used  as  a  smuggler's  haunt  for 
years.  We  are  not  for  from  the  Guatemala  line  here. 

"  But  how  can  any  practicable  use  be  made  of  it;  how 
do  they  get  down  here?"  asked  Nixon  incredulously. 

"Ah!"  replied  Baxter,  smiling,  "easy  enough. 
There  is  a  practicable  ravine  about  five  miles  up  stream, 
so  the  Indians  tell  me,  and  a  good  trail  leading  over  to 
Jocon,  a  dozen  miles  below  here.  That  is  the  way  we 
must  go  back.  Now,  if  we  only  stand  guard 
over  our  rum,  the  natives  will  clear  the  tunnel 
by  daylight;  then,  you  can  examine  it  as  you 
wish.  One  of  them  speaks  a  little  Spanish,  and  he  has 
agreed  to  pilot  us  back  to  Jocon,  by  the  ravine,  and 
have  all  the  men  of  his  strange  brood  carry  to  a  point 
on  the  trail  near  the  town  our  heavy  goods.  We  are 
to  repay  them  with  as  much  rum  as  they  can  pack." 


206  HIS    CUBAN    SWEETHEART. 

"Good  enough,"  cried  Lorimer,  his  spirits  rising; 
"we  will  fill  them  up,  inside  and  outside.  All  well  at 
odr  camp,"  he  gayly  concluded,  as  he  dropped  his 
field-glass.  "  The  smoke  column  is  still  curling  up  on 
the  knoll  by  the  cedars." 

Baxter  and  the  Indian  soon  produced  a  hearty  meal 
from  the  contents  of  the  pack,  while  the  three  friends 
filled  a  sheltering  cleft  of  the  rocks  with  drifted  wood. 
This  was  soon  covered  with  moss  and  elastic  leaves, 
heaped  up  by  the  willing  savage  women.  "Behold 
our  beds,"  laughed  Abercromby. 

"We  will  have  deer  at  daylight  for  breakfast,"  said 
Baxter.  "Our  Indian  friends  are  mighty  hunters,  and 
they  haunt  the  runs  where  the  bucks  come  down  to 
drink." 

All  through  the  long  night  one  of  the  four  white  men, 
rifle  in  hand,  patrolled  the  river  bank  between  the  two 
openings  of  the  tunnel,  while  the  brown-skinned  natives 
hopefully  toiled  away,  with  the  rum  of  Jocon  in  their 
mind's  eye. 

Divided  into  watches  of  three  hours,  the  resting 
time  of  nature  slipped  away,  until  the  river  glen  was 
vocal  again  with  the  bird  and  beast  chorus  of  daylight. 

Strange  dreams  had  haunted  the  rude  pillows  of  the 
wanderers  to  the  Mangalile,  and  yet  right  cheerfully 
did  the  young  men  bound  up  to  begin  the  examination 
of  the  tunnel. 

"So  far  all  is  going  well,"  remarked  Baxter,  as  he 
marshaled  the  steaming  viands  and  the  fragrant 
coffee.  "The  tunnel  is  perfectly  clear  now  from  end 
to  end.  There's  a  big  fat  buck  hanging  by  his  heels 
down  by  the  stream  and  I  see  our  signal  smoke 
above ! " 

In  half  an  hour  breakfast  was  finished,  and  with 
brawny  arms  bared  the  excited  party  was  at  work. 

The  first  examination  brought  disappointment. 

There  had  been  a  deposit  of  g'ravel  left  by  the  suc 
cessive  floods  of  ages  in  the  tunnel.  It  would  take  at 
least  a  day's  strong  digging  to  get  down  to  the  old 
level  of  the  floor  as  indicated  by  the  mouths  of  the 
passage. 

It  was  hastily  decided  to  dig  a  trench  about  thirty 


HiS   CUBAN    SWEETHEART.  2c>7 

feet  long,  following  the  axis  of  the  tunnel  midway 
between  the  two  entrances.  This  would  surely  strike 
anything  that  would  answer  the  description  of  the 
Spanish  buccaneer's  rocky  cache. 

Four  short  cornish  picks  and  picket  shovels  were 
soon  at  work,  where  the  Americans  knelt  under  the 
down-sloping  roof  of  the  center  of  the  tunnel.  The 
Indian  children  held  the  flaming  fiber  torches  near,  the 
men  in  the  rear  rolled  out  the  loose  cobbles,  while 
the  women  carried  out  all  the  loosened  earth  in  rude 
baskets,  hastily  plaited. 

It  was  a  singular  scene ;  the  swarthy,  naked  natives 
and  the  nervous,  energetic  whites  toiling  away;  the 
resounding  thud  of  the  picks,  the  hollow  scraping  of 
the  shovels,  was  the  only  sound  heard.  On  guard 
with  ready  rifle  and  revolver,  the  native  muleteer 
scanned  the  approaches  of  the  stream,  above  and 
below  the  Devil's  Nose. 

The  day  passed  quietly  in  fevered  digging,  and  the 
great  flaming  sun  darts  filled  the  canon,  as  the  half- 
disheartened  men  gathered  around  the  camp  fire  to  eat 
of  Honduras  venison  and  reinforce  their  energies  with 
the  magic  rum. 

"  It  seems  to  get  harder  than  flint  as  we  go  down," 
doggedly  said  Abercromby,  filling  his  pipe,  and 
stretching  his  stiffened  frame. 

"  I  fear  that  the  concrete  we  are  drifting  in  has  never 
before  been  disturbed  by  man,"  cried  the  impulsive 
Nixon. 

"Now,  young  men,  quit  talking  and  go  to  work," 
cut  in  Baxter,  sententiously. 

The  natives  had  kept  up  their  digging  without  an 
instant's  cessation. 

"There  is  one  thing  I  don't  like  about  this  whole 
situation,"  said  Lorimer,  in  a  brief  resting  spell  from 
pick  and  shovel.  "How  did  the  party  of  the  wander 
ing  Aguilar  Romero  ever  get  here,  when  the  trails  all 
lead  over  the  mountains  ?  It  seems  incredible." 

"Easy  enough!  "  answered  the  sharp-witted  Baxter. 
"  The  old  buccaneers  always  traveled  the  ravines  and 
valleys,  as  being  the  easiest  and  safest  about  here;  and 
the  water-run  ways  guided  them  to  the  sea  on  either 


208  HIS   CUBAN    SWEETHEART. 

side.  The  Indians,  light-footed  as  deer,  always  laid 
out  their  trails  to  cross  the  highest  points,  so  as  to 
descry  the  coming  of  their  heavily  armed  Spanish 
enemies.  It  is  so  on  the  plains,  and  in  Arizona,  as  well 
as  Mexico,  where  the  natives  always  use  these  highest 
points  for  their  rallying  places,  and  to  light  their  signal 
fires." 

"It  does  not  seem  as  if  any  one  ever  had  floated 
down  this  little  stream,"  doubtfully  remarked  Aber- 
cromby. 

"Don't  it?  Look  at  the  brushwood  piled  twenty 
feet  high  on  the  banks,"  replied  the  ex-rebel  scout. 
"  In  the  rainy  season  a  good-sized-  vessel  could  easily 
pass  from  here  to  Truxillo,  and  remember,  too,  that 
the  buccaneers  only  lashed  logs  together  and  went  down 
these  streams." 

"Let  us  tackle  the  concrete  again,"  urged  Lorimer, 
whose  face  bore  marks  of  the  flame  of  his  internal 
excitement. 

So  they  worked  on  until,  late  at  night,  Baxter  forced 
the  young  men  unwillingly  to  their  rest. 

"See  here,  gentlemen,"  he  said,  "  Your  hands  are 
beginning  to  swell,  and  you  will  all  be  stiff  to-morrow. 
Rest  easy,  and  turn  in.  I'll  guard  the  camp  with  our 
man,  and  these  Aztecs  in  double  shifts  will  keep  up  a 
steady  lick  all  this  night;  I'll  give  them  a  good  round 
of  spiritual  refreshment  at  midnight. 

The  supper  was  dispatched  in  the  silence  of  intense 
fatigue. 

As  they  turned  in  Nixon  put  his  head  out  of  his 
blankets  to  ask  the  watchful  Baxter  if  the  summit  sig 
nal  was  all  right. 

"  There  was  a  faint  smoke  line  at  sunset,  it  was  just 
visible,  but,  it  was  there!"  answered  the  volunteer 
guard. 

The  second  night  of  the  bivouac  passessed  in  peace; 
only  the  uncouth  wallowing  of  a  tapir  had  disturbed 
the  sleepers  when  Baxter  roused  them. 

"Let  us  all  go  into  the  tunnel,"  he  said.  "The 
Indians  have  found  a  line  of  flat  stones,  near  one  of  the 
walls,  and  directly  in  the  middle  arch  of  the  cavern." 

There  was  a  rush  for  the  entrance. 


HIS    CUBAN    SWEETHEART.  2Og 

Dashing  into  the  gloomy  hole,  the  three  friends 
were  soon  on  their  hands  and  knees,  besides  the  tired 
Indians,  who  muttered  in  strange  fear,  as  they  sought 
to  dislodge  the  closely  cemented  drift.  There  was  a 
line  of  stones  in  rough  order  plainly  visible,  although 
the  work  of  hours  would  be  needed  to  clear  even  one 
them ;  the  central  trench  being  too  far  distant  from 
the  side  wall. 

"If  we  had  only  blasting  powder  or  dynamite," 
cried  Lorimer,  his  pale  face  now  beaded  with  the  sweat 
of  excitement. 

"  That  would  bring  down  the  roof  on  us,"  promptly 
answered  Baxter.  "Now,  let  us  have  our  break 
fast,  while  we  put  the  whole  force  of  Indians  at  cutting 
the  overhanging  bank  off  this  line  of  stones." 

Then  the  scout  reassured  the  timid  and  shrinking 
natives. 

"  What  is  the  matter  with  them  ?  "  demanded  Lori 
mer. 

"  They  fear  this  is  the  Devil's  grave,  and  the  spirits, 
loosed  from  rest,  will  carry  them  off,"  chuckled  the 
guide.  "After  our  coffee  we  will  come  back  and 
urge  them  to  their  work.  They  want  us  to  stand  by 
and  protect  them." 

It  was  just  after  the  coffee  had  gladdened  their  nos 
trils  that  Baxter  suddenly  dropped  his  pannikin. 
"Give  me  the  field  glass,"  he  said  in  an  agitated 
voice. 

"What  is  the  matter  ?  "  cried  the  three  men,  spring 
ing  up. 

"By  the  etarnel  !  There's  no  fire  signal  on  the 
mountain  !  "  slowly  answered  Baxter,  as  he  handed 
the  telescope  back  to  Nixon. 

One  after  another  they  swept  the  lines  of  the  knoll 
towering  far  above  them.  Not  a  single  blue  wreath 
curled  around  the  cedar  clumps.  The  gloomy  silence 
was  broken  by  Baxter. 

"There  is  something  wrong  up  there,"  he  coldly 
said,  "  I  don't  like  it  a  bit.  You  remember  the  cook's 
words,  'You  can  bet  on  me  to  the  last  gasp.'  Some 
one  has  cleaned  up  our  camp;  most  likely  the  cussed 
horse  thieves." 


210  HIS   CUBAN    SWEETHEART. 

"  What  shall  we  do  ?  "  was  the  inquiring  chorus. 

"Do,"  scornfully  echoed  the  scout.  "First,  I'll 
send  the  remaining  Truxillo  Indian  by  the  river  ravine 
to  sneak  up  there  and  find  out  what's  the  matter;  next, 
we  must  get  the  stuff  out  of  that  Devil's  Lock  Box  of 
yours  as  quick  as  we  can.  Then,  we  can  barricade 
this  tunnel  and  fix  ourselves  for  a  bit  of  a  fight." 

"Ah,"  growled  Lorimer,  "I  see  it  now,  we  have 
been  followed  by  some  one,  every  step  from  New  York. " 

"Yes,  and  by  heavens,  they  shan't  take  the  last 
trick  here  without  a  fight!"  said  Nixon,  in  a  rage,  as  he 
sprang  up. 

"  Let  me  first  dispatch  the  Indian,"  said  the  man  of 
war.  This  was  done  in  two  minutes. 

"The  man  will  surely  get  back  here  before  mid 
night, "  remarked  Baxter.  "I've  given  him  his  cue, 
and  told  him  he  would  not  need  to  work  for  a  year  if 
he  is  faithful.  You  three  men  get  all  your  arms 
and  ammunition  within  the  cave  and  keep  up  the  work. 
Send  all  the  spare  Indians  out  to  me.  I'll  soon  fortify 
the  entrances." 

In  a  half  hour,  acting  under  his  directions,  the  up 
stream  mouth  of  the  tunnel  was  filled  with  loosely 
piled  boulders,  over  which  were  thrown  the  logs 
removed  from  the  tunnel.  A  tangle  of  bushes  and 
vines  concealed  the  artful  mask. 

"There,"  said  Baxter,  as  he  crawled  up  to  where 
the  friends  were  nervously  working  away  like  madmen, 
"  I  have  my  people  all  busy  throwing  up  a  breastwork 
at  the  down  stream  end,  with  only  a  flank  opening  and 
a  loop-holed  barrier  behind.  We  can  stop  the  opening 
easily." 

"  How  ?  "  cried  the  excited  Nixon. 

"With  dead  men  !  "  chuckled  the  scout.  Then  he 
continued  seriously:  "We  have  plenty  of  water  near, 
and  all  our  traps  and  grub  inside.  I've  had  the  camp 
fires  all  covered  with  fresh  gravel.  The  squaws  and 
kids  after  bringing  all  the  gourds  filled  with  water  for 
us,  will  sleep  around  in  the  trees  to-night  and  give  ui 
warning  if  any  one  comes." 

"  Do  you  think  the  attack  will  hold   off  till  then  ? 
asked  the  Americans. 


HIS    CUBAN    SWEETHEART.  21  I 

"They  are  not  darn  fools  enough  to  tackle  us  in 
daylight,  when  we  can  see  to  shoot,"  scornfully  ejacu 
lated  Baxter.  "  Now  go  ahead  with  the  work,  gentle 
men,  I've  got  all  the  rifles  handy  here.  A  couple  of 
the  Indians  up  and  down  the  stream  will  let  us  know  if 
the  enemy  approach." 

"  Our  messenger — how  will  he  return  in  safety?" 
demanded  Nixon,  while  his  friends  pried  away  at  a 
flat  covering  stone,  which  seemed  to  loosen  at  last. 

11  I've  told  him  to  crawl  down  the  bank  opposite  and 
give  the  jaguar  cry  three  times  in  succession,  which  I 
will  then  answer,"  answered  Baxter,  inspecting  his 
rifle  carefully. 

There  was  not  a  useless  word  spoken  for  an  hour,  as 
the  laborers  in  the  grimy  recesses  of  the  tunnel  effected 
the  dislodging  of  one  of  the  row  of  gray  flat  stones, 
fastened  together  by  a  cemented  matrix  harder  than 
the  rocks  themselves.  Disappointment  was  upon  them, 
as  Nixon  thrust  his  hand  into  a  soft  gray  mud  oozing 
with  infiltrated  water.  "Here,"  he  cried  hoarsely, 
"  Give  me  a  knife."  He  thrust  his  heavy  blade  down, 
then  plunged  his  hand  again  into  the  orifice.  It  came 
back  covered  with  loosened  hairs,  the  decayed  frag 
ments  of  what  had  been  the  upper  layer  of  a  rawhide 
bag. 

"Pass  me  a  calabash,"  he  commanded,  sharply,  and 
half  filled  it  with  the  mixed  material  of  the  rough 
coffer.  "There  are  some  good-sized,  rounded  lumps, 
looking  like  dirty  green  marbles  in  there!"  Doctor 
Jim  said,  still  on  his  knees — the  others  gathered 
anxiously  round.  "Are  these  pebbles  or  are  they —  —  ?" 

"Give  me  the  gourd!"  cried  Lorimer,  and  before 
his  friends  could  stop  him,  he  had  run  down  the  bank 
to  the  silver  stream  of  the  Mangalile.  Here,  careless 
of  lurking  foes,  the  excited  lawyer  quickly  panned  out 
the  gray  silt,  until  only  a  dozen  heavy,  rounded,  crusty 
pebbles,  with  dull  green  edges,  remained  in  the  red 
interior  of  the  calabash.  Holding  them  up  to  the 
light,  one  after  another,  the  elated  adventurer  uttered 
a  shout,  which  brought  his  friends  in  angry  remon 
strance  to  his  side.  "They  look  like  the  rough 
emeralds  I  saw  in  New  York.  They  have  a  dull 


212  HIS   CUBAN    SWEETHEART. 

green  color.  I  swear,  I  believe  we  have  found  the 
lost  treasure,"  he  cried  in  triumph. 

The  watchful  Baxter  warned  them  back,  as  Nixon 
and  Abercromby  also  verified  the  discovery  of  Inez 
Romero's  lover. 

Crouched  in  a  sunny  angle  near  the  primitive  fortifi 
cation,  Doctor  Nixon  applied  the  file,  and  found  the 
stones  all  proof  against  the  gnawing  edge.  "Back 
now,"  he  said,  "and  clear  out  the  coffer.  If  we  find 
the  remains  of  the  four  bags  Aguilar  spoke  of,  it  is  an 
added  proof." 

"Back  to  cover!"  growled  Baxter.  "Clear  the 
whole  thing  out  and  be  ready  to  make  a  break,  if  need 
be.  Our  legs  must  take  us  back  to  Jocon  if  these 
horse  thieves  have  really  raided  the  camp." 

"To  work!"  cried  Nixon.  Then  the  triumphant 
band  returned  to  scoop  out,  with  knife  and  tin  cup, 
the  whole  interior  of  the  irregular  opening. 

But  it  was  hours  before  the  last  of  the  precious  peb 
bly  mass  was  deposited  in  the  rawhide  ore  bags,  which 
formed  a  part  of  the  Indians'  pack. 

"Now,"  said  Nixon,  as  he  held  up  a  candle  so  as  to 
illuminate  the  irregular  box-like  cavity,  "there  is 
nothing  left  here.  Whatever  there  is,  we  have  it!" 

"It  is  the  old  treasure,  I  verily  believe,"  said  Lori- 
mer,  as  he  pointed  to  the  rude  wicker  basket  where 
lay  the  fragments  of  the  decayed  sacks,  which  came 
out  in  shattered  strips  under  the  digging  work  of  the 
machete.  "The  buccaneer's  story  has  been  verified 
in  every  detail.  The  loose  mud  must  have  been  infil 
trated  from  the  oozy  floods!  " 

All  was  silent  without,  save  the  rippling  river,  gurg 
ling  over  its  shingly  bed,  and  the  wail  of  the  night  birds. 

"Dare  we  light  a  fire  now  for  our  coffee  ?  "  asked 
Abercromby,  as  their  work  was  achieved.  » 

"One  of  you  come  out  and  stand  guard  with  me," 
answered  the  scout,  "and  I'll  warm  the  pot  over.  I 
have  a  cold  supper  here  that  the  squaws  cooked  for  us 
back  in  the  woods." 

"What  are  your  plans  for  the  night,  Baxter?" 
earnestly  demanded  the  exhausted  Nixon. 

"  Oh,  my  strategy   is  all  ready;  I  will  post  all  the 


HIS    CUBAN    SWEETHEART.  213 

women  and  children  on  the  banks,  and  also  let  some 
of  the  men  lie  out,  with  orders  to  watch.  We  can 
sleep  here  behind  our  breastwork  in  readiness.  No 
one's  going  to  get  past  those  Indians  unnoticed.  I  will 
lie  nearest  the  open  passage  and  be  responsible  for 
bringing  in  our  messenger,  if  he  ever  returns." 

These  suggestions  were  listened  to  with  a  courage 
born  of  a  new  danger. 

There  was  no  sleep  in  the  gloomy  hole  where  the 
excited  adventurers  lay  huddled  together  for  warmth, 
and  the  hours  glided  by  in  low  murmured  converse,  as 
to  the  anxious  morrow. 

"There's  but  one  thing  left  to  do,"  sententiously 
said  Baxter,  "and  that  is  to  get  back  to  Jocon, 
though  we  are  not  safe  till  we  reach  Arinal.  From 
there  one  forced  march  will  bring  us  up  to  the  summit. 
Ha!  listen!"  and  all  their  hearts  beat  wildly,  as  the 
jaguar's  shrill  cry  sounded  out  three  times  across  the 
river.  The  scout  answered. 

A  moment  later  a  man  was  hastily  drawn  within  the 
barricade. 

"Speak!"  muttered  Baxter. 

"Ah,"  groaned  the  returned  muleteer.  "All 
gone,  Todos muerfos\"  and  he  fell  forward  at  the  feet 
of  his  questioner. 

"  Then  we  are  left  helpless,  betrayed — cut  off  in 
this  lonely  forest,"  groaned  Lorimer.  "And — our 
recovered  deposit  ?" 

"  Must  be  saved!" 

"Look  out!"  muttered  Nixon,  shoving  his  Win 
chester  out  of  its  ready  loophole.  For  an  Aztec  now 
glided  in,  whispering,  "  Ladrones — robbers — many 
coming  round  the  point." 

"Rifles  first,"  commanded  Baxter.  "  Have  your 
pistols  ready,  too.  Wait  till  they  crowd  around  in  a 
huddle  to  get  in.  They  have  surely  tracked  our  mes 
senger.  Fire  low  when  I  give  the  word  ;  then  pour  it  in 
as  long  as  you  can  see  a  moving  man.  Curse  'em!" 

The  scout  dropped  a  couple  of  leaning  logs  into  the 
manhole  at  the  angle  of  the  curtain ;  then,  with  finger 
on  trigg.  r,  the  four  whites  stood  "  at  a  ready." 

In  the  glimmer  of  the  starlight  nothing  could  be  seen 


214  HIS   CUBAN    SWEETHEART. 

as  yet,  but  the  shuffling  of  many  feet  was  heard  on  the 
loose  gravel  of  the  river  bank. 

The  ex-guerrilla  was  on  his  knees  and  peering  out 
of  his  loophole. 

He  straightened  up  and  shoved  his  rifle  forward,  as 
the  loose  wall  without  was  rudely  shaken  by  the  rush 
of  men.  "Now!"  he  whispered.  Then  the  flashes 
leaped  forth  from  the  awakened  Winchesters,  and  yells 
and  screams  sounded  widely  on  the  night  air. 

"Hold,"  he  shouted  at  last.  A  few  heavy  groans 
outside  answered  him.  "  I  reckon  they'll  let  us  rest  in 
peace  for  the  rest  of  the  night,"  he  quietly  added.  A 
moment  after  the  opening  of  the  tunnel  was  lit  up  with 
flambeaux  waved  by  the  friendly  savages  of  the  Man- 
galile.  The  friends  followed  Baxter's  lead,  to  where 
he  stood  gazing  at  three  ugly  looking  Mestizos,  lying 
prone  in  the  spread  eagle  agonies  of  a  sudden  death. 
Armed  with  their  sharp  fish  lances,  their  watchful 
allies  viciously  prodded  the  dead  assaflants  to  verify 
their  helplessness. 

"Who  are  they  ?  "  demanded  Baxter. 

"Guatemalans,  bad  men!"  simply  answered  the 
leader  of  the  river  Indians,  spurning  the  body  of  a 
dead  robber. 

"  Is  no  one  of  us  hurt  ?"  called  out  the  scout. 

It  was  then  that  their  returned  messenger  dragged 
himself  out  of  the  tunnel. 

"  Tell  us  of   the  camp,"  eagerly  said  Baxter. 

The  Indian  shuddered  as  he  spoke  :  "  Your  own 
man  lies  there  with  my  poor  compadre,  shot  to  death, 
and  already  half  eaten  by  the  mountain  wolves.  The 
hobbled  mules,  all  with  their  throats  cut  are  scattered 
near  by  as  they  were  killed,  one  by  one." 

"  The  two  soldiers  ?  "  hastily  questioned  Nixon. 

"Gone!  not  a  sign.  The  cowards  ran  away,  per 
haps,  was  the  answer. 

"  And  all  our  camp  property  ?  "  was  Baxter's  last 
query. 

"  They  had  dragged  the  things  down,  and  pitched  all 
off  the  cliff  ;  I  saw  a  saddle  caught  on  a  tree  half  way 
down  the  first  bluff.  They  carried  nothing  away. " 

"Now,  this  beats   hell,"  philosophically   remarked 


HIS    CUBAN    SWEETHEART.  215 

the  rebel  veteran.  "You  men  seem  to  have  a  deadly 
foe  treading  on  your  path  day  and  night.  Their  little 
game  was  the  same  right  here,  to  sneak  in  and  butcher 
us  all  while  asleep.  These  fellows  luckily  only  fired 
one  shot  ;  they  were  confused  about  the  other  blocked 
tunnel  entrance  in  the  dark,  and  were  groping  around 
for  us.  They  did  not  fancy  that  we  were  ready 
for  'em,  on  the  inside." 

"And  now "  said  Nixon. 

"There's  but  one  course,"  replied  Baxter,  as  he 
emerged  from  the  tunnel,  after  rewarding  his  faithful 
outlaying  spies  and  giving  the  exhausted  messenger  a 
good  dram. 

"Get  rid  of  every  pound  extra  weight.  Give  all 
our  useless  property  to  our  strange  friends;  then 
let  us  strike  for  Jocon  by  daylight  These 
nimble  woodsmen  will  scout  all  the  banks  as  we  go 
along.  We  must,  at  every  risk,  get  into  the  village 
to-morrow  night.  In  a  band,  we  will  then  demand  the 
alcalde  to  send  a  swif t  runner  down  to  Arinal  for  mules. 
We  will  stay  in  his  house  till  they  come,  kinder  keep 
ing  him  a  hostage.  With  mules  we  can  get  safely  over 
to  Arinal  in  a  couple  of  days.  Then,  a  dash  for  'the 
sea  coast,  and  you  and  your  treasures  are  safe." 

"  Then  back  to  Paris,"  exultingly  cried  Lorimer. 
"  With  the  hard  won  legacy  of  Fernando  Aguilar  de 
Romero,"  gravely  said  Nixon,  "and,  may  God  rest 
his  soul." 

"This  has  been  a  lively  old  night,"  ener 
getically  remarked  Generalissimo  Baxter,  as  he  lit  his 
pipe,  and  sat  down  with  his  rifle  across  his  knees. 
"  But  we  are  safe  now.  These  wild  natives  are  as 
good  as  any  outlying  picket." 

It  was  so.  All  that  night  the  Indian  braves  watched 
and  scouted,  while  their  frightened  women  and  chil 
dren  huddled  round  the  camp  fires,  save  when  they 
gave  a  contemptuous  kick  to  one  or  the  other  of  the 
three  dead  robbers,  who  lay  cold  and  stark  by  the  river 
bank. 


2l6  HIS   CUBAN    SWEETHEART. 

CHAPTER  XV. 

"IT  is  THE  PADRE!  " 

THERE  was  little  sleep  in  the  cavern,  where  the  half- 
dozen  sacks  lay,  still  open,  filled  with  the  mass  of  mud 
and  green  pebbles,  scraped  out  of  the  hole  where  it 
had  lain  for  two  hundred  years.  The  sudden  attack 
had  interrupted  all  mineralogical  tests  of  the  hidden 
treasure  so  strangely  recovered. 

The  indefatigable  Baxter  had  now  completed  his 
dispositions  for  the  night.  "Shall  we  revisit  our  old 
camp  on  the  mountains?  "  anxiously  inquired  Nixon. 

'  This  is  now  a  case  of  life  or  death,"  sharply  an 
swered  the  frontiersman.  "  There  is  nothing  on  the  hill 
but  the  bones  of  our  two  poor  followers.  Now  you  three 
men  have  surely  got  the  thing  you  came  down  here  for — 
slush  or  uncut  jewels!  Your  half-dozen  sacks  and  our 
arms  are  the  only  things  we  dare  not  abandon.  Take 
what  sleep  and  rest  you  can;  I'll  rouse  you  all  at 
three  o'clock.  Let  us  make  all  ready;  what  we  don't 
take  we  will  give  to  the  tribe.  The  men,  only,  go  with 
us.  It's  a  race,  perhaps  for  life  itself,  to  Jocon ;  there 
we  will  take  what  there  is  in  town  and  push  hard  on  to 
Arinal;  the  villagers  will  be  only  to  glad  to  get  us  out 
of  Jocon  and  off  their  hands.  We  must  make  a  forced 
march  and  thus  avoid  a  peck  of  trouble  later,  perhaps, 
about  killing  these  dirty  Guatemalans, .  Perhaps  we 
may  have  to  fight  our  way.  Who  the  h — 11  is  on  your 
track,  man  or  devil?  I  give  it  up."  He  glared  around 
for  an  answer. 

"  Both,"  gloomily  answered  Nixon;  for  the  unseen 
hand  which  has  struck  down  poor  Felipe  Romero  seemed 
to  be  still  clutching  at  the  recovered  emeralds. 

"You  are  right,  Baxter;  we  will  be  ready,"  said 
Lorimer. 

"  It's  a  case  of  save  our  bacon  now,"  growled  Aber- 
cromby. 


HIS   CUBAN    SWEETHEART.  217 

So,  side  by  side,  the  pilgrims  of  love  lay  and  waited 
for  Baxter's  call. 

It  seemed  as  if  the  adventurers  had  only  closed  their 
eyes  when  the  iron  sinewed  Southerner  aroused  them. 

"  Here  you  are,  all  ready  for  the  road,"  he  cheerily 
said.  The  Indians  have  our  breakfast  cooked,  and  the 
packs  are  all  made  up.  I've  left  the  ammunition  belts 
and  guns  for  ourselves.  The  sacks  are  sewed  up,  and 
slings  made.  If  we  are  officially  questioned,  we  can 
simply  say  that  we  have  some  ore  samples.  In  half  an 
hour  more  we  can  start." 

"  Baxter,  you  are  a  jewel,"  cried  Nixon. 

With  strangely  moved  hearts,  the  three  men  turned 
away  from  the  dark  cavern  forever,  as  the  guide  started 
his  Indian  bearers  on  in  advance. 

They  lingered  a  moment  by  the  fire  to  give  a  few 
gold  pieces  to  the  faithful  squaws  who  had  served 
them  so  well. 

"  Now,  gentlemen,  you  have  recovered  your  hidden 
deposit — it  is  to  the  sea — for  our  own  lives,  and — no 
fooling  on  the  way,"  urged  the  ex-Confederate.  He 
shouldered  his  rifle,  and  plunged  down  the  bank. 

With  a  last  look  of  the  awful  gorge  rising  to 
where  -their  murdered  servant's  bones  lay  under  the 
mountain  cedars,  they  moved  away,  anxious  to  get  out 
of  the  dark  and  threatening  canon. 

They  straggled  down  the  sandy  reaches  of  the  widen 
ing  river,  and  the  daylight  came  faintly  in  upon  them. 
In  Indian  file,  they  moved  along  freely. 

"No  danger  yet,"  pithily  said  Baxter.  "Our  trail 
cannot  be  followed  until  it  is  broad  daylight,  and  the 
prowlers  have  had  a  severe  lesson.  No  one  down  here 
likes  the  Gringos  at  bay.  Our  real  trouble  will  be  be 
tween  Jocon  and  Arinal. " 

Three  hours  after  leaving  the  "Witch's  Haunt"  the 
party  halted  at  the  opening  of  a  practical  canon, 
where  the  Jocon  creek  purled  down  from  the  moun 
tains.  Baxter  eyed  the  "tender-foot"  Americans 
anxiously. 

"  A  half  hour's  rest,  coffee,  a  bite,  and  the  Indian 
boys  will  rub  your  legs  limber  for  you  in  a  jiffy,"  he 
remarked. 


3l8  HIS   CUBAN    SWEETHEART. 

Then  he  posted  four  of  the  Indians  as  outlying  pick 
ets,  and  smiled  as  the  party  gradually  recovered  the 
use  of  their  muscles  and  got  under  way.  Along  the 
shortening  trail  to  Jocon,  the  chances  of  safety  in 
creased  every  hour.  A  couple  of  lithe  Indian  boys  ran 
in  advance,  scanning  with  lynx  eyes,  the  beautiful  for 
est,  now  lit  up  with  the  high  morning  sun. 

"We  shall  make  it  well  before  sunset!  "  were  Bax 
ter's  cheering  words. 

The  prospect  of  safety,  and  the  shelter  even  of  the 
poor  hamlet  of  Jocon  nerved  every  limb.  At  last  the 
rising  smoke  of  Jocon  was  seen  in  the  waning  afternoon. 

The  Indians  then  stopped  and  began  to  chatter  in 
their  strange  jargon  to  the  guide. 

"What  is  the  matter?"  anxiously  asked  the  Ameri 
cans. 

"They  are  afraid  of  being  kept  as  peons,  and  will 
not  go  nearer  the  town." 

' '  We  can  never  get  the  heavy. burdens  into  the  village 
alone,"  muttered  Nixon,  moodily. 

"I'll  pick  out  a  good  place  for  you  to  make  a  stand ; 
then  I'll  take  our  own  man  and  go  on  into  the  village. 
Give  me  some  of  your  doubloons.  I'll  get  a  few  mules 
back  here,  loaded  with  some  of  that  rum,  which  has 
been  our  blessing  here,"  suggested  the  wise  one  they 
called  Baxter. 

"  That's  true,"  Lorimer  assented.  "  We  could  not 
have  kept  guard  and  cleared  that  tunnel  in  a  week 
without  these  docile  forest  wanderers." 

"  And  we  would  have  been  starved  out,  or  perhaps 
butchered  at  our  work,"  said  Nixon,  as  he  handed 
over  a  dozen  doubloons.  "  Don't  spare  the  rum,"  he 
laughed,  good-humoredly. 

"Oh,  I'll  give  them  enough  for  a  month's  love 
feast."  Baxter  then  disappeared  with  a  cautionary 
"  keep  a  sharp  look  out." 

The  friends  waited  till  hope  deferred  made  the  heart 
sick.  They  dared  not  light  a  fire  for  fear  of  an  ambus 
cade.  But  the  last  of  the  rum  and  the  faithful  pipes 
aglow  steeled  them  to  waiting  the  event. 

The  clatter  of  hoofs  brought  them  all  to  their 
feet  as  the  guide  dashed  up.  "I  made  a  ten 


HIS   CUBAN    SWEETHEART. 

strike,"  he  cried  gayly,  springing  off  a  fine 
mule.  "  I  found  by  good  luck  a  Truxillo  muleteer 
returning  from  Teguciguepa  with  a  sarsaparilla  pack 
train.  I  have  ten  of  these  mules  already  engaged. 
They  will  be  all  here  for  you  in  ten  minutes.  I 
brought  along  four  five-gallon  skins  of  rum  and  a  box 
of  tobacco  for  these  faithful  dark  friends.  Decent 
quarters  with  good  rawhide  beds  await  you  now  at 
Jocon.  I  have  frightened  the  poor  alcalde  already  half 
out  of  his  wits.  He  will  be  glad  to  see  us  move  out." 

A  ringing  hurrah  answered  the  scout's  welcome 
address.  Ten  minutes  later  the  dusky  waifs  of  the 
Mangalile  glen  were  ready  to  plunge  back  again  into 
the  friendly  gloom  of  night. 

Their  welcome  burdens  of  rum  and  baccy  were  quick 
ly  slung  on  poles,  and  presents  of  pocket  knives  and 
small  portable  articles  of  the  four  whites  made  these 
friends  of  adversity  happy  at  heart. 

"Get  a  move  on  before  the  alcalde  catches  you," 
cried  Baxter. 

They  took  his  hint,  at  a  run,  to  gain  again  the  invin 
cible  protection  of  the  tractless  glades  of  the  lonely 
river,  their  only  safeguard  against  the  oppression  of 
the  civilized. 

"  Not  one  word  must  be  let  fall  carelessly;  be  on 
your  guard  every  minute,"  commanded  the  Mentor  as 
they  rode  into  Jocon.  "  I  will  do  the  talking  for  the 
whole  party." 

It  was  in  the  alcalde's  own  house,  surrounded  by 
his  family,  a  sans  gene  band  of  squalid  women  and 
frowzy  children,  that  the  four  adventurers  slept,  with 
the  ore  bags  piled  under  their  beds  and  their  revolvers 
all  loosely  strapped  on. 

The  muleteer,  who  had  so  luckily  missed  the  sad 
fate  of  the  surprised  mountain  camp  party,  droned  the 
night  out  with  the  mules  in  the  patio,  alternately  rolling 
papilitos,  basking  at  the  fire,  or  taking  a  siesta  in  his 
serape  among  the  fleas  and  pebbles  in  the  courtyard. 

Happy  peon.  His  brown  skin  was  unpunctured  by 
knife  or  pistol  ball,  and  it  had  in  it  about  all  the  rum 
that  he  could  force  down  his  throat.  The  compensations 
of  fortune  are  strange. 


220  HIS    CUBAN    SWEETHEART. 

The  next  morning  the  party  were  halfway  up  the 
great  bold  divide  leading  to  the  long  ridge  above 
Arinal,  on  their  homeward  way  before  Baxter  dared  to 
unfold  his  plans,  while  the  new  muleteers,  out  of  ear 
shot,  "  adjusted  packs  "  on  a  friendly  shelf. 

"  We  will  safely  be  on  the  summit  at  noon,"  he  said 
to  the  three  New  Yorkers.  "  From  there  we  can  see 
the  pass  that  we  must  cross  to  descend  to  Omoa  Bay. 
Now,  to  prevent  any  possible  gossip  of  these  strangers, 
we  will  camp  on  this  side  of  Arinal,  in  a  glen 
about  five  miles  from  the  town.  Then  at  dawn  we  will 
push  right  on,  avoiding  the  place  by  a  detour.  By  to 
morrow  night  we  will  camp  on  the  ridge,  where  we  can 
see  the  blue  Bay  of  Belize  and  the  Beauregard  at 
anchor,  sixty  miles  beyond." 

"  Will  the  men  turn  off  as  you  wish?  "  said  Lorimer. 

"They  won't  know  until  we  are  twelve  miles  beyond 
Arinal,  and  then — this  talks."  He  tapped  his  revolver 
and  laughed.  "  Ready  money  will  do  the  needful  later, 
in  the  way  of  apologies." 

It  was  with  a  feeling  akin  to  triumph  that  the  re 
turning  prospectors  found  themselves  at  sunset  wind 
ing  the  tri-fold  ridge  leading  to  the  outskirts  of  Arinal. 
The  huge  Aguan  river  crawled  along  like  a  blue  snake,  two 
thousand  feet  below,  past  sandy  wastes  and  burning, 
yellow  logwood  groves;  another  dimly  seen  valley, 
sweeping  from  Yoro  onwards  to  far  Olanchito,  was 
blocked  out  in  green  tangles  of  impassible  jungle. 

The  last  rays  of  the  setting  sun  burned  fiercely  on 
the  coppery  cliffs  of  the  huge  range  shutting  off  the 
sea,  in  which  a  dim  indentation  indicated  Cortez's  pass, 
where  the  mail-clad  men  of  Spain  had  toiled  along  in 
their  search  for  gold,  three  hundred  years  before. 

"  This  is  our  point  of  greatest  danger,"  said  Baxter, 
as  he  posted  the  train  in  a  washout  valley  a  few  rods 
away  from  the  Arinal  trail. 

All  of  that  night,  two  of  the  returning  Argonauts 
watched  the  camp,  rifle  in  hand.  There  was  nothing 
to  break  the  dreamless  sleep  of  the  exhausted  way 
farers,  and  long  before  the  dark-haired  Senoras  of 
Arinal  had  sought  the  nearest  spring  for  their  morning 
toilets,  the  little  cavalcade  had  forded  the  Aguan,  and 


HIS   CUBAN    SWEETHEART.  221 

were  miles  beyond  the  reach  of  all  the  village  bab 
blers. 

When  at  ten  o'clock  Tough  Baxter  quietly  rode  up 
to  the  head  of  the  column  where  the  road  branched 
toward  the  Omoa  Pass,  there  was  a  trial  of  title  to 
the  mules  which  led  to  a  display  of  Castilian  eloquence 
by  the  scout,  and  the  sudden  withdrawal  of  his  ready 
revolver  from  its  scabbard.  For  the  chief  muleteer 
was  strangely  rebellious  and  evidently  deeply  chagrined 
at  the  sudden  change  of  route. 

"You  will  be  well  paid  for  your  loss  of  time.  The 
mules  go  to  Omoa  with  us,  and  if  you  choose  to  walk 
back  to  Truxillo  by  the  Aguan  road,  you  will  find  them 
there,  six  days  before  you."  Such  was  the  guide's 
energetic  harangue. 

The  four  men  backing  him  up  overawed  the  grumb 
ling  head  muleteer.  Despite  his  muttered  carajos 
the  stout  and  well  rested  mules  were  pushed  along 
toward  the  Omoa  pass.  They  jingled  away  over  the 
rising  uplands  to  the  winding  trail  leading  along  the 
foothills  into  the  mountain  notch. 

Busied  with  guarding  the  rear,  and  watching  against 
all  possible  pursuit  and  any  further  surprise,  it  was  only 
when  they  camped  in  the  four  mile  pass  leading  through 
the  great  Sierra  overhanging  Livingston,  Puerta  Cortez 
and  Omoa,  that  Baxter  noticed  the  absence  of  one  of 
the  muleteers. 

"Were  there  not  five  of  these  chaps  in  the  party  ? 
he  asked,  his  voice  trembling  with  excitement. 

"Yes,  yes,"  answered  the  three  Americans. 

"Then,  one  of  them  has  surely  slipped  away  from 
us  ;  there  are  but  four  now.  He  sprang  forward  and 
roused  the  dull  looking  strangers,  who  were  cowering 
around  the  fire. 

"  It's  no  use,"  grumbled  the  Southerner  on  his  re 
turn,  "  Liars  by  nature — I  could  not  even  shoot  the 
truth  out  of  them,  if  I  tried.  This  fellow  may  bring 
trouble  on  us.  You  see,  we  don't  know  if  he  has  gone 
ahead  or  not." 

"  You  fear  treachery,"  asked  Nixon  anxiously. 

"Perhaps  yes,  perhaps  no  !  He  has  hurt  his  foot, 
they  say, "  grumbled  Baxter.  ' '  It  may  be  true ;  these 


222  HIS    CUHAN    SWEETHEART. 

fellows  often  fall  out,  and  sometimes  catch  up  a  day 
later  ;  the  forests  here  are  also  full  of  mahogany  cut 
ting  parties,  and  log-wood  gatherers.  The  Belize  Bay 
slopes  are  hunted  over  for  rare  orchids  and  the  treas 
ured  sarsaparilla,  as  well  as  the  rare  plumage  bird. 
Perhaps  some  little  Indian  hut  here  may  hide  this  miss 
ing  fellow's  humble  sweetheart.  But  on  a  ticklish 
trail,  I  want  no  one  to  leave  the  party." 

With  redoubled  vigilance  they  alternated  in  guard 
ing  their  camp  until  the  dawn,  when  Baxter  led  them 
on  at  a  stiff  trot,  four  miles  past  fearful  chasms  and 
over  beetling  cliffs. 

The  clear  salt  air  of  the  Caribbean  drew  through 
the  gap,  and  all  then  pressed  eagerly  forward,  as  their 
wary  leader,  halting  at  a  knoll  in  advance,  waved  his 
hat  and  yelled,  "The  sea!  the  sea!  " 

By  his  side  they  soon  stood  in  a  delighted  group, 
and  all  shook  hands  in  a  vigorous  congratulation,  for, 
spread  out  before  them,  like  a  sapphire  lake,  lay  the 
beautiful  Bay  of  Belize. 

Far  in  the  distance,  a  dim  low  green  line  marked 
British  Honduras,  stretched  out  across  the  silent  gulf. 
To  the  west,  the  splendidly  broken  mountain  line  of 
Guatemala  towered  over  the  groves  where  Livingston's 
white  houses  showed  out,  and  a  broad  level  savannah 
filled  the  re-entrant  of  the  southern  curve,  covered 
with  fragrant  groves,  rich  with  the  cocoa,  pine-apple, 
banana,  orange  and  lime.  It  was  an  enchanted  scene 
— a  dream  picture  of  delight. 

"We  are  all  safe  now!"  joyously  shouted  Aber- 
cromby. 

"  Purty  near  out  of  the  woods,  but  not  quite," 
muttered  the  watchful  scout.  "  Omoa  and  Puerta 
Cortez  lie  just  below  us  to  the  right.  By  noon  I  can 
tell  you  if  the  .Beauregard\'t,  in  the  Bay." 

The  elated  Americans  cried,  "On,  on,"  and  chat 
tered  gaily  as  they  rode  down  the  glen. 

No  happier  group  surrounded  Balboa  on  the  peak  of 
Darien  than  that  which  clustered  round  Baxter  in  the 
waning,  sweltering  tropic  day,  as  he,  with  field-glass 
to  his  eye,  remarked,  "I  know  the  Beauregard* s  rig. 
There  she  is." 


HIS   CUBAN    SWEETHEART.  223 

Two  vessels  were  to  be  seen  riding  far  below  them 
at  anchor  in  the  beautiful  inlet  of  Omoa  Bay. 

The  discontented  muleteers  were  made  joyful  with 
a  ration  of  rum,  and  Nixon  gaily  cried,  ''Ten  pieces 
extra  a  man,  if  we  sleep  on  board  to-morrow  night," 
and  so  all  went  well  as  they  jogged  merrily  along. 

Their  last  camp  was  a  lively  scene  at  sunset,  when 
they  built  their  fire  by  a  lagoon  opening  out  into  the 
sluggish  river  flowing  down  to  Omoa. 

"  There,"  said  Baxter,  "  if  we  did  not  have  to  make 
a  circuit  to  get  firm  ground  around  this  marsh,  we 
could  reach  Omoa  in  sixty  minutes  ;  but,  five  hours 
more  to-morrow  morning  will  put  us  on  the  sea 
beach." 

The  hammocks  bought  at  Jocon  had  just  been 
strung  to  the  nearest  trees,  when  a  squad  of  mounted 
men,  led  by  an  officer,  rode  up  at  a  smart  trot  and 
surrounded  them. 

The  four  Americans  were  ready  to  fire,  but  the 
guide,  recognizing  the  soldiers'  uniforms,  cried  out: 
Amigos  !  Atnigos  !  Americanos  ! 

There  was  no  time  lost  in  parley,  for  the  scowling 
officer  insisted  upon  an  examination  of  their  packs. 
"  Smugglers  with  tobacco  were  swarming  around,"  he 
vigorously  insisted,  and  was  very  dubious  as  to  any 
belief  in  the  story  of  the  innocence  of  the  alleged  ore 
samples. 

With  calm  courtesy,  Baxter  soothed  the  haughty 
lieutenant's  national  pride.  The  peace  offering  of  rum 
and  cigaritos  only  partly  mollified  the  soldier. 

"Have  you  a  permit  to  mine  in  Honduras?"  he 
abruptly  demanded  at  last.  "If  not.  I  must  take  you 
all  in  to  Puerta  Cortez,  to  the  customs  office!  You  can 
remove  nothing  without  certificate  and  examination." 

Here  the  blood  ran  cold  in  the  veins  of  the  three 
American  adventurers  anxiously  listening. 

The  squad  of  soldiers,  a  dozen  or  more,  armed  with 
repeating  Spencers,  stood  "at  a  ready."  Their  sullen 
faces  indicated  a  readiness  to  pull  the  trigger.  The 
Americans'  own  muleteers  were  calmly  indifferent. 

"Let  me  navigate  this,"  whispered  Baxter.  "Get 
out  a  few  gold  pieces," 


224  HIS    CUBAN    SWEETHEART. 

Then,  with  infinite  tact,  the  rebel  veteran  contemp 
tuously  kicked  the  nearest  sack.  "Only  a  few  speci 
mens,"  he  said,  as  he  slashed  the  fastenings  of  one  of 
the  ore  bags  with  his  bowie  knife. 

The  lazy  officer  never  stooped  to  examine  further, 
but  quietly  grasped  the  gold  pieces  slipped  confiden 
tially  into  his  hand  by  El  Seiior  Baxter.  A  handful  of 
their  last  cigars  and  a  bottle  of  rum  completed  the 
officer's  good-humored  surrender  to  the  "  sweetening  " 
process. 

"Fools,"  mused  Honduras' lieutenant,  as  he  rode 
away.  "To  come  down  here  for  a  few  worthless 
stones." 

But  he  left  four  happy  men  over  their  coffee  boiling, 
blithely  talking  of  this  last  "narrow  shave." 

"I  don't  think  that  anything  else  can  now  happen," 
growled  Baxter,  as  they  made  all  safe  for  the  night. 
"  I  will  have  our  men  get  the  animals  ready  at  three 
o'clock,  and  have  coffee  boiled.  Then  we  will  push 
on  to  Omoa  as  fast  as  the  mules  can  trot." 

"Are  you  sure  that  our  own  vessel  is  there?" 
demanded  Nixon,  whose  nerves  were  thrilling  yet  with 
the  possibility  of  arrest,  detention,  and  perhaps  the 
confiscation  of  the  supposed  precious  stones. 

"Why,  certainly,  I  would  know  her  rig  in  a  thous 
and,"  replied  Baxter.  "The  big  three-master  near 
her  looks  something  like  that  Cuban  cattle  schooner 
that  we  left  lying  at  Truxillo ;  she  may  have  come  up 
here  for  her  load." 

"The  Matanzas  schooner,  "echoed  the  New  Yorkers, 
in  a  breath. 

"Oh,  they  are  a  lazy  Jot  here,"  laughed  Baxter. 
"  Besides  they  may  have  only  got  half  a  load  down 
at  Truxillo,  and  then  come  up  for  the  rest.  Sometimes 
they  lie  a  month  here  trading  for  hides  and  animals. 
There's  no  rent  to  pay  on  blue  waters." 

Then  the  rebel  raider  carefully  gave  out  the  order  of 
the  guard,  "Wake  me  at  midnight,"  Nixon,  he  said, 
I'll  get  the  men  out  of  hammock  at  two  o'clock." 

The  dusky  shadows  of  night  framed  themselves  into 
strange  figures,  as  Nixon  paced  his  weary  rounds,  after 
his  comrades  had  turned  in  and  all  was  quiet. 


HIS   CUBAN    SWEETHEART.  22$ 

The  muleteers  lay  together,  huddled  around  their 
fires,  and  a  gloomy  silence  soon  possessed  the  malarial 
swamp  which  fringed  the  lonely  lagoon. 

Once  the  American  thought  he  saw  a  creeping  some 
thing  moving  around  near  his  sleeping  comrades.  He 
strode  towards  it.  It  seemed  to  fade  unto  the  shadows 
of  the  tropic  forest.  He  listened.  No  sound  came  to 
alert  ears.  "  Pshaw,"  he  mused.  "  The  flicker  of  the 
camp  fire  deceived  me,"  as  he  returned  from  where  his 
three  comrades  lay.  "  I  must  be  sure,  however,  and 
wake  Baxter  in  time." 

Even  as  he  thought,  a  strange  and  drowsy  feeling 
began  to  suddenly  benumb  his  muscles.  ''Yes,"  he 
repeated,  "  I  must  wake — wake  Baxter."  With  these 
words  on  his  lips,  he  paused  at  a  tree  and  leaned  against 
it,  passing  his  hand  over  his  eyes,  as  the  heavy  rifle  fell 
from  his  grasp.  Then  he  sank  down,  benumbed  and  dead 
to  all  dangers. 

The  dreams  of  Frank  Lorimer  were  haunted  by  a 
fair  face  with  Castilian  eyes,  until  the  sharp  sting  of 
some  one  of  the  thousand  creeping  things  of  Honduras 
caused  him  to  convulsively  roll  out  of  the  hammock, 
falling  on  the  soft  grass.  He  struggled  slowly  to  his 
feet,  then  gazed  around.  The  camp  was  all  silent, 
and  the  stars  glimmered  through  a  wet  mantle  of  warm 
coast  fog. 

"  I'll  have  just  one  pipe,"  he  muttered,  rubbing  his 
leg, "  and  take  a  turn  around  the  fire."  He  looked  about 
for  the  sentinel.  All  was  silent  and  deserted.  "Why, 
where's  Nixon?"  he  sleepily  mused,  as  he  slowly  paced 
the  little  circle  of  their  bivouac. 

A  sudden  stumble  over  a  prostrate  form  wakened 
him  to  a  sense  of  danger  at  once. 

Crying  loudly  for  help,  he  knelt  beside  the  man  lying 
prone  with  his  gun  under  him.  "  Dead!  "  he  screamed, 
and  no  one  replied. 

Catching  up  the  Winchester  he  ran  back  to  the  ham 
mocks.  There  were  Baxter  and  Abercromby,  lying  also 
helpless,  and  his  rough  shakings  did  not  rouse  them. 
"Treachery!"  he  shouted,  as  he  sprang  over  to  where 
the  muleteers  still  lay  in  circle.  But  no  answer  came 
to  his  alarms. 


226  HIS    CUBAN    SWEETHEART. 

He  flew  back  to  his  friends.  A  hasty  examination 
showed  him  no  mark  of  knife  or  bullet.  They  still 
breathed,  they  were  alive,  thank  God  !  they  were 
alive  ! 

Dashing  cool  water  over  them  from  the  lagoon, 
prodding  them,  shaking  them,  crying  to  them — at  last 
sentiency  began  to  return  to  them.  They  moved  of 
their  own  volition,  sluggishly,  sleepily.  Then  Baxter 
opened  his  eyes  and  growled  sleepily  :  "  What  the 
deuce  is  the  matter  ?  " 

"  Matter  ?     You've  been  drugged  !  " 

"Drugged  !"  The  word  seemed  to  act  as  a  spur 
upon  the  frontiersman.  ''Drugged!  How?  You're 
not  insensible,  Lorimer  ?  That's  curious." 

"I  drank  no  coffee  !  '' 

"But  I  did  and  all  the  rest,"  muttered  the  scout, 
still  only  half  awake.  A  hurried  questioning  of  Nixon 
and  Abercromby,  who  were  now  able  to  speak,  told  the 
same  tale.  Lorimer  had  drunk  no  coffee  and  had 
retained  his  senses.  The  rest  had  partaken  and  had 
been  drugged. 

"  The  muleteers  as  well,"  cried  Frank.  "  Look  at 
them  !  There  they  all  lie." 

"  Two  of  the  three,"  said  Baxter,  striding  over  to 
them.  "Where  the  dickens  is  the  other  ?" 

"A  hasty  search  revealed  that  the  chief  muleteer 
was  gone. 

"Ah  !  to  steal  the  mules, "cried  Nixon. 

"  You're  out  there,  my  friend,"  replied  Baxter, 
who  strode  about  waving  his  arms  to  make  his  blood 
circulate  and  his  brain  work.  "  The  mules  are  all  here, 
and  so  are  our  arms." 

"Then  we  have  been  robbed  of  nothing,"  said 
Abercromby. 

"Hold  your  horses  a  minute,"  remarked  the  ex- 
confederate.  Seizing  a  brand  from  the  fire  he  ran  to 
where  the  six  ore  bags  had  been  piled  between  the 
hammocks  of  Lorimer  and  Nixon. 

A  wild  cry  came  from  all  of  them  ! 

The  sacks  of  emeralds  were  gone  ! 

Whirling  the  brand  into  a  blaze,  they  saw  that  the 
bags  had  been  dragged  away,  over  the  now  dew-soaked 


HIS   CUBAN    SWEETHEART.  227 

grass  down  to  the  edge  of  the  lagoon,  and  there  the 
deep  prints  of  men's  boots,  showed  where  the  heavy 
burdens  had  been  lifted  into  a  canoe. 

There,  in  the  silence  of  the  night,  a  sudden  light 
flashed  over  Lorimer's  excited  brain  :  "The  Matanzas 
schooner! — By  Heaven,  they  have  followed  us,  and  the 
chief  muleteer  has  drugged  the  party! 

The  toughened  Baxter  was  now  almost  himself  again. 

"  Saddle  up,  saddle  up  !  "  shouted  Lorimer  in  a  stern 
voice,  and  the  frightened  Mestizos  urged  by  the  heavy 
foot  of  the  guide,  hastened  to  prepare  the  animals. 

"  Leave  all  but  our  weapons,"  ordered  Baxter. 

"And  now  altogether.  On  to  Omoa!"  cried  Lor 
imer.  "  For  if  we  catch  that  schooner  we  may  yet 
get  the  thieves;  if  they  don't  throw  the  stuff  over 
board?  By  Heaven,  they  have  tricked  us  at  the  last!  " 

The  patter  of  the  mule's  feet  on  the  road  quickened 
in  rapidity  as  Nixon  and  Abercromby,  the  two  greatest 
sufferers,  regained  their  vigor. 

Baxter  was  now  all  awake,  and  it  was  at  a  smart 
rattling  trot  the  cavalcade  pushed  on  to  Omoa, 

The  day  came  at  last,  slowly  breaking  and  lifting 
the  pearly  fog  from  the  sleeping  bay.  Already  they 
were  in  sight  of  Omoa  when  Baxter  pulled  up  his  mule 
and  whispered:  "  That  fog  may  prove  to  be  our  salva 
tion."  "V 

"Why?"  hopelessly  replied  Nixon,  the  faithless 
guard,  whose  head  was  bowed  in  shame. 

"  They  won't  be  able  to  see  us  from  the  Cuban 
schooner  for  an  hour.  If  we  can  get  on  board  the 
Beauregard  first,  then  our  boats  can  take  possession  of 
the  Cuban  schooner  before  any  canoe  can  work  out  of 
the  lagoon  We  will  find  the  head  devil  of  this  scheme, 
whoever  he  is,  on  board  that  boat.  You  have  been 
tracked  down  here  from  New  York  By  Heaven !  You 
should  have  told  me  all  at  first!  I  might  then  have 
saved  you."  Then  Baxter  broke  away  and  galloped 
up  to  the  flag-staff  that  indicates  the  hotel  of  Omoa  vil 
lage,  muttering:  "  Curse  all  half  confidences!  They're 
worse  than  none  at  all!  " 

The  friends  had  hardly  drawn  reins  when  the  guide 
quickly  reappeared,  followed  by  old  "  Frenchy  Le- 


228  HIS   CUBAN    SWEETHEART. 

maire,"  half  dressed,  who  excitedly  pulled  one  of  the 
muleteers  from  his  animal  and  then,  springing  on  cried: 
"  Vamonos,  pronto  !  Lcs  Voleurs  !  " 

A  moment  later  they  were  at  the  beach. 

The  gray  eyes  twinkled  ferociously  as  Lemaire  yelled 
to  a  Carib  who  stood  up,  gesticulating  in  a  fine  canoe, 
"  Four  men;  your  very  best;  quick!"  he  called  out, 
as  the  eager  natives  ran  down  to  the  strand  to  meet  the 
liberal  French  captain. 

Tony's  gray  mustache  curled  with  anger  as  he  lis 
tened  to  Baxter's  brief  recital. 

"Ah,  Les  Voleurs!"  he  snorted,  as  the  four  Caribs 
brandished  their  paddles,  the  canoe  whizzing  along 
over  the  crystal  flood.  Frenchy's  head  was  now  bent 
to  Baxter  as  the  two  men  quickly  laid  their  plans. 

"  I  have  it,"  growled  the  irate  Lemaire.  "  I  go  on 
board  ze  Matanzas  schooner;  make  a  friendship  visit. 
I  send  zis  boat  back  to  bring  ze  comandante  right  off 
for  ze  breakfast,  ze  cigarre  and  ze  good  cognac.  Ha 
my  buen  amigo.  I  make  him  catch  that  diable muleteer ! 
He  hide  near  to  watch  for  ze  mule.  I  give  you  my 
besta  boat's  crew — my  cutter — and  you  all  watch  ze 
lagoon.  If  one  boat,  he  sneak  out,  then  you  run  out 
and  stop  him.  If  they  row  to  ze  Cuban  schooner — my 
man  all  armed — by  Jupiterre!  we  hold  ze  boat! 

The  sunlight  was  dancing  on  the  blue  waters  of  the 
dreaming  bay,  as  the  bronzed  Caribs,  standing  upright, 
propelled  the  great  cedar  canoe  along  with  lusty 
sweeps  of  their  double-handled  paddles. 

Pearly  banks  of  gray  fog  rolled  away,  showing  the 
beautiful  reaches  of  Omoa  bay-,  fringed  with  its  fruit- 
laden  trees.  There  was  no  sign  of  life  on  the  dairn/ 
Beauregard  save  a  man  on  forecastle  ;  but  there  were 
already  some  active  fellows  at  work  on  the  deck  of  the 
great  three-master. 

"  I  don't  like  the  looks  of  that,"  grumbled  Baxter, 
as  he  eyed  the  Cuban  vessel.  "  They  are  loosening 
her  sails." 

As  he  spoke  the  gray  fog  swept  away  and  showed 
the  calm  waters  of  the  lagoon,  into  which  the  river 
streamed  with  all  the  drainage  of  the  great  encircling 
mountain  basin. 


HIS    CUBAN    SWEETHEART.  229 

The  morning  gun  at  Omoa  fortress  boomed  out,  as 
Nixon  quickly  cried,  "See,  something  in  the  river! 
Beyond  the  further  point!" 

A  black  speck  was  drifting  down  from  afar.  Was 
it  the  thieves'  canoe? 

"Ha  !  pronto  !  pronto  !  "  yelled  Lemaire. 

To  his  shout  glistening  balls  of  muscle  rose  on  the 
Carib  boatmen's  arms,  as  with  strained  whip-cord 
sinews  they  swept  their  bark  along. 

"Get  your  arms  ready,"  quietly  ordered  Baxter. 
"We  have  no  time  to  lose." 

A  minute  later  they  were  alongide  the  Beaaregard. 
As  Frenchy  bounded  lightly  over  the  rail,  his  excited 
gibberish  brought  every  man* of  his  crew  on  deck. 

Two  minutes  after  he  was  pulling  away  to  the  Cuban 
schooner  with  four  of  his  tars,  who  carried  not  only 
revolvers,  but  the  usual  machete  of  the  polite  land  of 
Honduras. 

As  Frenchy's  gig  swept  away  from  the  Beauregard, 
her  long  boat  was  quietly  lowered  upon  the  side  fur 
thest  from  the  Matanzas  vessel.  Into  this  boat,  from 
the  Carib  canoe,  the  four  Americans  sprang  with 
gleaming  eyes,  as  their  oarsman  sat  ready  to  give  way. 

Tired  of  waiting,  Nixon  leaned  over  the  gunwale  and 
bathed  his  heated  face  in  the  sparkling  waters  on  which 
they  floated. 

"Don't  do  that,"  sharply  commanded  Baxter. 
"The  water  swarms  with  huge  sharks  here;  half  a 
dozen  are  near  us  in  the  shade  of  the  schooner." 

"Bah!"  replied  the  excited  American.  "  I  escaped 
the  thieves;  why  not  the  sharks?" 

"They  are  over  the  bar,  and  heading  for  the  Cuban, 
let's  cut  them  off. "  Give  away,  men !  "  interrupted  the 
ex-Confederate  as  he  seized  the  tiller.  Now  don't 
shoot  till  I  give  the  word." 

They  swept  along  now  in  plain  sight  of  Captain  Tony 
Lemaire,  who  was  just  boarding  the  Matanzas  craft. 

The  morning  sun  gleamed  fiercely  now  on  the  glassy 
waves,  as  the  god  of  day  darted  his  golden  lances  of 
fire  over  the  broad  blue  waters  of  Belize  Bay.  Nixon 
had  his  glass  fixed  on  the  canoe  which  had  passed  over 
the  bar,  and  was  now  only  a  half  mile  distant  from  the 


230  HIS   CUBAN    SWEETHEART. 

Cuban  vessel.     Baxter,  with  a  keen  survey  of  relative 
positions,  kept  on  his  course,  as  if  going  ashore. 

"I  don't  wish  to  frighten  them  until  we  get  within 
gun  shot,'  coolly  said  the  scout.  "Then,  when  I  give 
them  the  order  to  stop,  drop  any  man  who^  wields  a 
paddle  afterwards." 

"  They  see  us  now,  and  are  thinking  over  changing 
their  course.  There  are  surely  three  men  in  that 
canoe,"  said  Nixon. 

"Hello!  "  there  seems  to  be  a  row  too  on  the  Cu 
ban,"  cried  Lorimer,  who  had  been  vigilantly  watching 
astern. 

"  So  there  is,"  said  Baxter,  as  he  snatched  the  glass. 
"But  Tony  has  the  ship.* 

"Look  out  for  the  canoe,  and  mind  your  shooting- 
irons,"  ordered  Baxter. 

"  I  want  them  to  get  pretty  near  before  we  nab  them, 
so  they  can't  throw  the  stuff  overboard." 

Two  men  were  now  paddling  with  all  their  might  in 
the  canoe,  which  seemed  to  skim  over  the  waves  far 
more  swiftly  than  the  heavy  keel  boat;  still  Tough 
Baxter  kept  on  his  shoreward  way. 

Suddenly,  he  swept  the  boat  around  with  the  full 
power  of  the  rudder,  and  cried  to  the  crew  "Give 
way  !  "  darting  like  a  tiger  directly  at  the  canoe,  now 
quite  near  the  Matanzas  three-master. 

A  heavy  man  in  the  stern  was  visible,  frantically 
urging  the  twopaddlers;  suddenly  he  stooped  down 
in  the  canoe,  and  seemed  to  be  struggling  with  some 
heavy  object. 

"Halt  there  !  "  rang  out  clear  and  shrill  over  the 
waters,  in  the  scout's  menacing  tone.  Still  the  bent 
form  struggled  with  its  load,  and  the  two  upright  fig 
ures  plied  the  paddles.  "  Fire  across  the  bow,  Nixon." 

The  rifle  rang  out! 

There  was  no  response,  save  the  answering  crack  of 
a  Winchester,  as  the4>urly  man  in  the  canoe  opened 
fire  on  the  JBeauregard' s  boat. 

"Shoot  him  quick 7"  commanded  Baxter,  as  one  of  the 
cutter's  crew  dropped  his  oar  and  fell  back  with  a  broken 
arm. 

Three  rifles  rang  out  together. 


HIS   CUBAN    SWEETHEART.  231 

Then  the  frail  canoe  swayed  as  the  man  at  the  stern 
sank  back  motionless. 

"He's  done  for,  shoot  the  others! "  muttered  the 
scout,  savagely,  as  the  disabled  cutter  gathered  way 
once  more. 

For  a  naked  Carib  and  a  light  form  in  loose  linen 
were  standing  in  the  pursued  canoe  and  plying  their 
paddles  desperately  to  escape.  They  were  but  fifty 
yards  from  the  Cuban  schooner  \\hcre  Lemaire  was 
wildly  gesticulating  upon  the  forecastle. 

The  rifle  spoke  again.  The  paddle  flew  out  of  the 
hand  of  the  Carib.  He  toppled  back  with  a  scream. 

"Capture  the  other  one  alive,"  muttered  Baxter,  as 
he  steered  to  range  alongside  the  chase.  A  second  after 
he  shuddered,  "Great  Heavens,  he's  gone!"  as  with  a 
despairing  cry  the  frightened  survivor  of  the  canoe's 
crew  suddenly  leaped  overboard,  and  was  seen  swim 
ming  with  desperate  energy  to  the  rope  ladder  hanging 
over  the  Cuban's  side. 

A  groan  of  horror  burst  from  the  Americans  as  the 
water  around  the  swimmer  was  lashed  to  foam  with 
huge  darting  forms  of  shiny  green  with  gleaming  white 
bellies  flashed  in  the  sun,  and  the  sharks  were  ravening 
over  what  had  once  been  a  human  being. 

Onlya  broad  floating  blood  stain  tinged  the  bubbling 
foam,  now  churned  up  by  the  wild  dash  of  the  savage 
monsters,  and  a  straw  hat  floated  idly  away  on  the 
shaking  ripples,  still  quivering  with  the  motion  of  the 
man-eaters  of  Belize  Bay. 

The  boat  and  canoe  now  came  together  with  a  shock; 
the  Carib  lay  athwart  the  bow,  writhing  in  agony,  with 
a  broken  shoulder. 

"  There's  the  sacks  yet!  "  yelled  Baxter,  in  triumph, 
as  he  grasped  the  light  vessel  by  its  gunwale  with  a 
grip  of  steel,  as  it  drifted  helplessly  by. 

The  first  to  leap  into  the  canoe  was  Lorimer,  who 
muttered,  "  He's  dead,"  as  he  turned  up  the  face  of 
the  man  lying  prone,  heaving  upon  the  ore  bags  in  the 
bottom  of  the  dugout. 

"Great  God!  It's — it's  the  Padre!  "  almost  shrieked 
Nixon. 

"What  Padre?"  growled  the  scout. 


232  HIS    CUBAN    SWEETHEART. 

"  Parde  Guerra!  "  faltered  Lorimer. 

The  secret  of  the  Cuban  cattle  schooner  was  at  last 
unveiled. 

A  half  dozen  men  were  leaning  over  the  rail  of  the 
Cuban,  as  the  two  boats  drifted  alongside.  At  the 
companionway,  Captain  Tony  Lamaire  was  now  grimly 
standing,  revolver  in  hand.  lie  pointed  as  Frank  Lori 
mer  sprang  on  the  deck.  "There  he  are"  he  cried. 
"  Ze  ladrone  muletero,"  and  in  truth,  lashed  to  the 
mainmast,  the  missing  chief  muleteer  was  trying  to  hide 
his  villainous  face. 

"I  have  ze  crew  all  down  below,"  joyously  pro 
claimed  Lemaire,  as  he  indicated  one  of  his  men  stand 
ing  armed  on  guard  at  the  cabin  hatchway. 

"  Let  us  get  this  wounded  wretch  on  board,"  faltered 
Nixon,  who  had  now  satisfied  himself  that  Padre 
Viciente  Guerra  still  had  life  in  him.  "  I  want  him  to 
talk." 

The  boat's  crew  hastened  to  this  task,  while  Aber- 
cromby  breathlessly  said  :  "  I  recognized  Juan  Valdes, 
as  he  sprang  overboard,  and  he  got  only  his  deserts." 

"  Secure   the  emeralds  "  said  Baxter  in  a  low  voice. 

In  five  minutes  a  whip  was  rigged,  and  the  six  sacks 
lay,  safe  at  last,  on  the  deck  of  the  vessel,  which 
had  evidently  only  waited  the  return  of  the  two  con 
spirators  to  weigh  anchor,  and  then  set  sail  for 
Matanzas. 

Doctor  Abercromby  then  raised  a  grave  question 
of  immediate  moment.  Kneeling  at  the  side  of  the 
fainting  priest,  he  said  :  "This  man  has  but  a 
short  time  to  live.  The  ball  has  gone  through  the 
right  lung.  Send  at  once  to  the  Beaurcgard  for  my 
medicine  chest." 

Then  as  the  cutter's  crew  sped  away  to  the 
Beauregard,  he  and  Nixon  diligently  plied  the  wounded 
man  with  cordials,  and  essayed  all  the  resources  of 
their  art. 

"What  you  wish  me  to  do  now?"  demanded  the 
eager  Frenchman." 

Get  us  all  out  of  this  harbor  and  put  us  ashore  on 
American  soil  at  St.  Augustine,  just  as  quick  as  the 
Beauregard  can  sail  there,"  spoke  Lorimer,  as  he 


HIS    CUBAN    SWEETHEART.  233 

slowly  gazed  at  the  dying  man,  whose  villainy  had 
effected  the  ruin  of  the  Romero  line. 

In  five  minutes  the  villainous  half-breed  opened  his 
eyes. 

Nixon,  holding  his  hand,  and  testing  the  flickering 
pulse,  spoke  gravely,  almost  beseechingly,  to  the 
Padre.  "  Tell  me,  why  did  you  hound  down  your 
benefactors  ?  For  what  did  young  Felipe  Romero 
die  ? " 

The  wounded  man  glared  up  defiantly  at  the  circle 
of  hostile  faces.  The  words  came  hissing  forth  from 
his  blood-foaming  lips  : 

"His  father  was  my  mother's  foe.  Indian  blood 
never  forgets  !  General  Jose  Romero's  father  sent 
me  into  the  world  as  his  despised  bastard.  For 
the  man  whom  I  plotted  to  ruin  in  every  step  of  his 
life,  was  my  brother  !  My  mother  was  his  father's 
victim,  and  I  was  suckled  at  her  breast,  to  a  bloody 
vengeance  !  " 


CHAPTER   XVI. 

THERE    IS    NO    STAIN    UPON    THE    ROBE. 

A  FILM  gathered  over  the  eyes  of  the  baffled  arch 
assassin,  and  it  was  an  anxious  hour  before  the  two 
watchful  doctors  dared  to  hazard  a  last  questioning. 

The  decks  of  both  schooners  were  now  busy  with 
the  most  precipitate  efforts  at  departure. 

While  Abercrombie  fanned  the  flame  of  life  to 
obtain  further  disclosures,  Nixon  and  Lorimer  were 
at  work  with  Tony  Lemaire. 

The  Cuban  captain  was  again  in  charge  of  his  own 
vessel.  His  ready  story  was  backed  with  every  evi 
dence  of  truth. 

Padre  Viciente  Guerra  had  engaged  him  for  a 
smuggling  cruise  along  the  Honduranean  coast,  and 
inquiries  for  cattle  being  only  to  blind  the  authorities. 
It  was  young  Juan  Valdes  who  had  acted  as  the  direc 
tor  of  all  operations  on  shore.  The  Cuban  really 
expected  to  be  called  on  to  r;::i  in  a  fuil  cargo  of 


234  HIS    CUBAN    SWEETHEART. 

smuggled  rum  and  tobacco  from  British  Belize,  land 
ing  it  as  usual  on  the  Honduras  shores  and  then 
receiving  hides  and  cattle  in  return. 

There  were  now  some  warning  signs  of  commotion 
on  shore  which  portended  a  hasty  visit  from  the  offi 
cials. 

"ByGare!"  cried  Captain  Lemaire,  "we  fooJa  ze 
Comandante.  I  send  my  frien'  now  to  take  my  own 
schooner  out  to  sea.  I  weigha  de  ancre  here  an'  we 
stand  right  outside.  They  got  no  good  boat  ashore. 
You  all  stay  here  with  me.  Makea  de  offing  twenty 
miles,  zen  I  steer  for  St.  Augustine  an'  this  boata 
for  de  Cuba!" 

"  Bueno  /"  cried  the  Cuban  captain.  "  My  owners 
at  Matanzas  told  me  all  right.  The  Capitan  General 
will  back  up  El  Padre." 

In  ten  minutes  both  schooners  were  clouds  of  canvas 
as  they  sped  along  over  the  shallow  waters  of  Belize 
Bay.  A  signal  gun  booming  from  old  Omoa  fortress 
indicated  the  impotent  rage  of  El  Comandante,  at  this 
most  unceremonious  departure  of  the  two  vessels 
without  their  papers. 

The  Carib  boatmen  and  the  captive  muleteers  were 
now  loud  in  their  wails  as  the  great  three-master  swept 
along  seaward. 

"  Be  quiet,  you  fools  !  "  commanded  Nixon.  "Don't 
you  see  your  canoe  is  in  tow  ?  We  will  send  you  all 
safely  ashore  and  well  paid," 

"  By  the  way,"  said  Abercromby,  "  before  the  Padre 
comes  to,  please  sling  that  fellow  who  drugged  us,  up  by 
his  thumbs  and  make  him  unfold  all  his  yarn." 

Baxter  attended  to  this  most  cheerfully  and  spread 
eagled  his  man  "  forrard  "  in  great  shape. 

"You  watch  the  Padre.  I'll  take  notes  of  this 
Dago's  copious  remarks,"  was  the  ex-guerrilla's  sug 
gestion. 

But  the  main  interest  centered  in  the  dark  schemer 
soon  to  be  death's  prey. 

The  three  New  Yorkers  leaned  over  Padre  Guerra, 
who  was  seemingly  revived  by  the  fresh  breeze  now 
singing  through  the  rigging. 

"We  must  coax  the  truth  out  of  him,"  gravely  said 


HIS    CUBAN    SWEETHEART.  235 

Lorimer,  thinking  of  the  great  estates  of  Jibacoa  still 
in  jeopardy. 

"Try  kindness, "  said  Abercromby.  "It's  no  use 
to  bluff  a  dying  man.  What  has  he  now  to  fear  ? 
Hopes  and  fears  are  all  the  same  to  one  whose  foot  is 
on  the  threshold." 

It  was  indeed  even  so.  It  was  Abercromby  who 
knelt  by  the  reviving  half-breed.  "  Can  I  do  any 
thing  for  you  ?  "  he  said  softly,  as  the  dying  priest 
opened  his  eyes.  "I  am  a  doctor,  as  you  know. 
Your  time  is  short.  I  was  never  your  enemy — only  a 
friend  of  my  friends." 

Viciente  Guerra's  eyes  rested  beseechingly  on  the 
young  man's  frank,  manly  visage.  There  was  a  world 
of  questioning — of  all  the  bitter  agony  of  defeat — of  a 
proud  man's  sullen  helplessness  ;  suddenly  his  glances 
softened  to  a  last  mute  appeal. 

"A  lonely  woman,"  he  whispered,  "at  Matanzas 
will  wait  for  the  lad  you  saw  die.  She  is  my  sister. 
The  Queen  of  the  Voudoos.  Will  you  swear  to  give 
to  her  unopened  what  I  confide  to  your  honor.  Tell 
me,  Americano  !  " 

"I  swear, "  solemnly  said  the  young  man  after  he 
had  exchanged  glances  with  his  friends. 

"Around  my  neck,"  gasped  Guerra. 

Then  Doctor  Bill  gently  removed  a  small  pouch 
hanging  by  a  silken  cord  on  the  bosom  where  brown 
ridges  were  now  flecked  with  stiffened  clots  of  blood. 

"  Manuela,  the  housekeeper  at  Jibacoa  will  bring 
her  to  you.  Tell  her,  the  charm  failed  us  at  the 
last  !  "  ' 

"Is  that  all  ?  "  gravely  questioned  the  doctor. 

"Yes,"  groaned  Guerra,  "for  the  rest  she  will 
know.  Failure — defeat — the  death  of  her  loved  son  !  " 

"Do  you  wish  to  be  taken  back  to  Cuba?"  sol 
emnly  said  Nixon. 

Guerra  faintly  moved  his  lips.  "  In  the  old  church 
— the  ruined  church  there,"  he  said;  then  muttered, 
"You  have  wealth  now — a  million." 

There  was  a  hovering  silence  as  Abercromby  plied 
every  restorative  known  to  his  art.  WThile  the  vessel 
swept  along  over  the  fairy  submerged  gardens  of  ths 


236  HIS    CUBAN    SWEETHEART. 

seas,  the  three  friends  watched  eagerly  the  last  rally  of 
the  dying  man. 

"Anything  more  ?  "  softly  whispered  Abercromby. 

"Nothing,"  whispered  Guerra,  whose  fingers  were 
moving  and  twitching  in  the  manipulation  of  an  absent 
rosary.  "It  is  the  hand  of  God.  The  Voudoo  Gods 
are  all  liars.  What  would  you  of  me  ?  Tell  me." 

"  Tell  us  of  your  plans, "  was  Nixon's  pleading  in 
quiry.  "  Remember  the  innocent  girl." 

The  priest  faltered.  "If  Juan  \7aldez  had  married 
her,  then  my  mother's  line  would  have  inherited  the 
stolen  birthright.  I  wished  to  drive  Inez  to  this 
through  poverty.  So  I  had  to  have  the  legacy  of  the 
old  buccaneer  too.  I  watched  the  Romeros  from  boy 
hood,  for  my  mother  swore  me  to  revenge.  She  was  a 
great  Voudoo  priestess  and  bequeathed  to  my  sister  her 
awful  heritage!  " 

"And  Felipe — why  did  he  die?"  Lorimer  gravely 
said. 

"  I — I  had  to  make  room  for  Juan,"  the  dying  man 
moaned.  "Besides,  I  had  to  stop  your  search  at  Jib- 
acoa. " 

"  Ah !  For  the  buccaneer's  secret?  " 

"  No — for  the  pardon  and  restoration  of  the  estates 
to  General  Romero,"  sighed  the  padre,  and  his  dying 
eyes  smiled  at  their  astounded  faces. 

"What!  Romero  pardoned?  Impossible!"  gasped 
Nixon. 

"Ten  years  ago  the  Spanish  Government  by  docu 
ment  sent  to  me."  said  the  priest  slowly,  "proffered 
free  pardon  and  restoration  of  the  estates  in  case  Ro 
mero  would  agree  to  quit  the  rebel  cause  and  return 
once  more  to  Cuba.  His  family  was  so  great — the 
name  so  old — it  would  have  been  a  grand  branch  lopped 
off  the  patriot  tree." 

'•  And  you  never  told  him?"  began  Lorimer  excited 
ly.  But  Nixon  placed  his  finger  on  his  lips  and 
muttered:  "Hush!"  the  padre's  voice  was  so  very 
low. 

"No.  Because  I — feared,  for  his  daughter's  sake — 
to  give  her  a  home,  to  place  her  above  any  chance  of 
want,  Don  Jose*  might  have  accepted.  I  wanted  the 


HIS   CUBAN    SWEETHEART.  237 

girl  in  my  own  hands.     Poor,  it  was  easy- — rich,  it  was 
impossible!  " 

"  And  you  came  to  New  York  for  that?  "  cried  Lor- 
imer. 

"  That  and  other  things.  The  Captain  General  sec 
retly  gave  me  charge  of  the  Spanish  government  spies 
in  New  York.  By  them  afterwards  I  discovered  that 
you  had  found  in  some  way  the  clew  to  the  emeralds. 
So  we  both,  Juan  and  I,  followed  you  to  this  place. 
And  Juan  is  destroyed  and  I  am  dying!  " 

"But  this  pardon — as  a  dying  man  I  charge  you  to 
make  reparation,"  whispered  Nixon  excitedly.  "  Inez, 
your  pupil,  your  own  blood,  you  say;  give  back  her 
estates  to  her.  Where  can  we  find  the  pardon  ?  " 

"Give  my  sister  this  ring  on  my  hand,"  slowly 
answered  the  man,  who  was  fast  weakening.  My 
sister  will  give  you  the  offer  of  pardon  !  Go  to  the 
Spanish  Ambassador  in  Paris  and  he  will  then  render 
up  to  Inez  Romero  the  documents  given  him  ten  years 
ago  when  he  was  the  Minister  to  America.  Then  Inez 
Romero  is  sure  of  her  estates.  My  sister,  the  Voudoo 
Queen,  will  give  the  pardon  to  you  when  you  faithfully 
restore  to  her  the  last  of  the  great  sacred  Voudoo  jewels, 
the  triple  charm  that  never  failed  before.  The 
Voudoo  Queen's  amulet." 

"  God  forgive  you,"  solemnly  said  Nixon  as  he  saw 
a  sudden  change  now  stealing  over  the  dying  man's 
bronze  face. 

"God  never  will  !  "  cried  the  padre,  writhing  in  the 
pains  of  dissolution.  "  God  never  will,"  he  moaned, 
the  anguish  of  a  lost  spirit  coming  upon  him,  "for  I 
have,  unannointed,  administered  the  sacrament  with 
profane  hands.  For  this  I  am  damned  forever!  " 

"  What,  no  priest  ?  "  they  shuddered  astounded. 

"My  cousin  was  a  priest.  El  vomito  killed  him, 
likewise  the  bishop  of  the  diocese  during  the  great 
rebellion.  There  was  none  to  minister  to  the  dying. 
I  took  the  vocation  upon  me.  During  the  awful  com 
motion  of  those  years  people  passed  away — those  that 
remained  forgot  I  had  not  been  ordained.  There  was 
no  bishop  to  supervise,  no  vicar  general  to  examine. 
And  then — then  I  had  learned  the  power  of  the  con- 


238  HIS    CUBAN    SWEETHEART. 

fessional.  I  could  not  give  it  up,  it  aided  me  so  in  my 
spying — in  my  work  of  vengeance.  I  was  never  a  true 
priest — only  a  government  spy.  There  is  no  stain  upon 
the  sacred  robe  of  Rome — which  anathematizes  me 
and  gives  me  to  hell  fire — and  damns  me  as  I — die!  " 

Here  his  voice  failed  him!  They  raised  him  gently 
up  and  his  eyes  had  not  the  peace  of  the  passing  spirit 
but  only  the  anguish  of  a  soul  forever  lost. 

Then  with  one  shuddering  thrill  the  darkened  spirit 
passed  out  far  beyond  the  earthly  metes  and  bounds 
which  fence  in  the  loves  and  hates  of  this  little  world 
of  ours. 

Twenty  miles  away  the  Comandante  of  Omoa  vainly 
raged  as  he  saw  the  two  schooners  lying  to  at  easy 
anchorage,  while  the  transfer  of  the  six  hide  bags  was 
carefully  effected.  There  was  no  danger  now  to  the 
jewels  which  had  been  the  object  of  Guerra's  artful 
treacheries. 

The  Honduranian  magnate  howled  in  wrath  when 
the  Carib  boatmen  paddled  in  at  nightfall,  bringing 
back  the  cresfallen  head  muleteer,  for  already  the  saucy 
Beauregard  was  standing  away  toward  the  coral  reefed 
shores  of  Florida,  bearing  three  happy  hearted  men 
homeward  to  Gotham's  maddening  whirl,  and  the  great 
three-master  was  steadily  breasting  the  waves  toward 
distant  Cuba  with  her  bootless  voyage  unrewarded. 

The  three  friends  were  now  already  deep  in  plans  for 
certain  little  personal  excursions,  which  seemed  to  pre 
sent  peculiar  advantages  both  to  themselves  and  the 
absentees  in  Paris,  when  Lorimer,  gazing  around  their 
cain,  suddenly  said:  "Where's  Baxter?" 

The  uplifted  wine  glass  dropped  from  Doctor  Bill 
Abercromby's  hand,  as  he  darted  upon  deck.  He 
found  the  ex-Confederate  standing  alone  at  the  bow  of 
the  vessel  gazing  at  the  fast  receding  shores  of  Hon 
duras.  For  the  first  time  in  many  days  no  "personal 
battery  "  adorned  the  veteran's  manly  person. 

He  gazed  blankly  at  Doctor  Bill,  when  that  rising 
young  physician  remarked:  "I  have  orders  to  move 
you  aft,  Baxter.  We  have  obeyed  you  long  enough, 
and  you  are  now  my  prisoner." 

The   world   wanderer's   cheek   paled    slightly   as  he 


HIS   CUBAN    SWEETHEART,  239 

quietly  said:  "See  here,  Doctor  Abercromby,  you 
have  all  good  homes  waiting  for  you.  I  seem  to  be 
only  a  sort  of  '  extra  man  '  in  this  world.  I'd  rather 
stay  here  forward." 

The  answer  of  Doctor  Bill  was  then  a  most  effective 
one,  for  he  towed  his  human  prize  bodily  down  to  the 
cabin  where  Frank  Lorimer  now  stood  with  a  fourth 
glass  brimming  with  Tony  Lemaire's  be^-t. 

Then,  by  an  impulse  which  needed  not  the  vain  dis 
play  of  threadbare  words  to  interpret  its  origin,  the 
three  friends  drank  the  health  of  the  fourth  friend 
whose  wit  and  nerve  had  been  the  safeguard  of  them 
all. 

"You  must  give  us  a  toast,  Baxter,"  was  the 
emphatic  order  of  Nixon,  when  the  raider  had  been 
duly  honored. 

"I  only  know  two,"  said  the  simple  borderer. 
"Sweethearts  and  wives,  and  the  Stars  and  Bars  !" 
Poor  homeless  rebel  Baxter. 

Then  he  went  on.  "  Don't  get  me  used  to  high 
living,  I'm  a  poor  man." 

"  Not  if  the  emeralds  are  genuine,"  cried  Nixon 
heartily. 

"  To  this  Lorimer  said  excited  :  "  Jim  and  I  make  a 
straight  run  from  Saint  Augustine  to  Paris." 

"And  what  of  us?"  remarked  Abercromby  rue 
fully." 

"You  and  Baxter  must  get  over  to  Matanzas  at 
once  incognito  ;  instantly  see  this  Queen  of  the 
Voudoos  and  obtain  the  papers  left  with  her  by  the 
dead  padre.  For  we're  going  in  now  to  get  those 
estates  back  for  Inez  Romero.  Emeralds  ain't  enough 
for  such  a  beauty,  eh,  Lorimer  ?  "  laughed  Nixon. 

For  in  truth  they  were  merry  now,  fear  of  death  had 
passed  from  them,  and  champagne  had  taken  its 
place. 

"Ah,  I  see!"  said  Abercromby.  "  Baxter  and  I 
will  get  the  papers  and  join  yon  in  Paris." 

"And  what  the  devil  am  I  to  do  in  Paris  ?  "  asked 
the  game  Southerner.  "  I'm  only  a  fighting  man  with 
out  a  job." 

"Have  a  devil  of  a  good  time  there  and  then  when 


240  HIS   CUBAN    SWEETHEART. 

we  get  the  estates  trot  back  to  Cuba  and  take  posses 
sion  of  them  for  Senorita  Romero,"  remarked 
Lorimer. 

"Will  that  be  her  name  when  Baxter  goes  back  ?  " 
said  Abercromby  with  a  slight  snicker,  which  produced 
a  guffaw  from  Nixon.  Even  Baxter  could  not  res 
train  his  merriment,  and  Captain  Tony  Lemaire  look 
ing  down  the  companion  way  cried  : 

"  Gentlemens  !  I  vill  join  you  in  a  toast,  you  seem 
so  ver'  happy  !  " 

So  coming  in  the  little  Frenchman  tipped  up  his 
glass  and  said  :  "I  drink  to  ze  ladies!  I  know  by 
your  laughs  you  are  thinking  of  zem  !  Allons,  mes 
enfants  ! 

With  this  he  departed  to  pile  more  canvas  on  the  fly 
ing  Beauregard,  till  she  swept  along  like  a  lithe  white 
wraith  of  the  summer  seas,  once  the  freebooters' 
home. 

"I  think  even  you,  Baxter,  may  turn  in  for  an  all 
night's  snoose,"  said  Nixon,  meditatively.  "No 
chance  of  being  drugged  to-night. " 

Then  all  turned  in  to  dream. 

Four  days  passed  over  them  uneventfully  in  a  deli 
cious  Nirvana  of  restful  abandonment  to  the  charms  of 
sea  and  sky.  They  had  seen  Ruatan,  Ulitta  and 
Bonacca  fade  behind  them,  and  speeding  northward 
marked  the  gleaming  red  lights  on  the  crags  where  the 
blood-thirtty  Spaniard  still  keeps  watch  over  the 
"  Siempre  Isla  de  Cuba."  Spit  and  Turtle  Key  shoal 
and  reef  were  safely  threaded  and  the  sharp-fanged 
coral  reefs  below  reached  up  in  vain  for  the  gleaming 
copper  of  the  Bcauregard. 

As  they  approached  Saint  Augustine,  Captain  Tony 
Lemaire  became  quite  morose. 

"You  see,"  he  said,  confidentially  to  Nixon,  "I 
musta  some  day  go  back  to  Honduras  coast.  My  boat 
— my  face — well  known  down  zere.  I  get  a  one  devil 
overhauling  if  I  go  back.  You  takea  me  and  makea 
me  one  d — d  pirate!" 

So  a  fear  of  Spanish  spies  and  Cuban  vengeance 
weighing  upon  the  old  buccaneer,  it  was  arranged 
that  the  vhole  party  should  be  secretly  landed  in  the 


HIS   CUBAN    SWEETHEART.  241 

night  at  St.  Augustine,  while  the  schooner  stood  off 
and  on. 

"You  see  we  have  no  papers,  and  to  be  detained  by 
the  authorities  on  a  telegraphed  complaint  for  our 
flitting  from  Omoa  would  possibly  be  fatal  to  all  our 
plans  for  quick  action,"  remarked  the  impatient  Nixon, 
as  the  friends  gathered  on  the  quarter  deck  the  next 
evening,  elated  yet  anxious.  For  the  lights  which 
shown  out  over  the  dancing  waves  were  those  of  Saint 
Augustine,  and  they  had  already  passed  Anastasia 
Island  and  were  opposite  the  landing  on  Bay  Street. 

"Yes,  our  flight  from  Omoa  disposed  of  all  our 
camp  outfit  in  very  good  shape,"  laughed  Lorimer, 
as  he  gazed  down  upon  the  long  boat  drifting  at  the 
schooner's  side,  waiting  for  them  and  the  rescued 
plunder  in  the  six  rawhide  bags.  "We  have  only 
what  we  stand  in  and  are  flying  light." 

"  Except  as  to  hair, "  jeered  Abercromby.  "Mine 
hasn't  been  cut  for  two  months." 

"All  the  better, "  said  Nixon.  "Our  landing  from 
a  yachting  cruise  will  be  an  easily  believed  story. 
Devil  fishing  and  tarpon  catching  will  explain  our 
wild  and  unkempt  appearance.  Jump  into  the  boat 
quick!  " 

They  were  light-hearted  as  they  swooped  in  shore- 
wards  and  sprang  upon  the  soil  of  the  United  States. 

On  Bay  Street  there  was  a  short  but  hearty  leave- 
taking  of  old  Tony  Lemaire,  who  nursed  the  conscience- 
bred  horror  of  customs  visits.  The  bill  drawn  on  the 
navy  agent  at  Key  West  for  his  plump  fee  as  per 
charter,  warmed  all  the  cockles  of  the  old  pirate's 
heart.  He  heartily  screamed  after  them  his  good 
wishes  as  his  long  boat  drew  away  returning  to  the 
Beauregard,  which  looked  in  the  moonlight  almost  like 
a  phantom  yacht. 

Then  the  two  lovers  made  straight  for  a  telegraph 
office,  as  Baxter  and  Abercromby  with  due  philosophy, 
followed  by  one  astounded,  stay-up-all-night  nigger, 
drove  to  the  old  Saint  Augustine  House  on  Bay  Street, 
very  carefully  guarding  the  inheritance  of  the  absent 
heiress  of  Jibacoa.  For  none  of  the  great  hotels  like 
the  Ponce  de  Leon  and  Cordova,  which  are  filled  with 


242  HIS   CUBAN    SWEETHEART. 

myriad  visitors  in  the  winter,  were  open  at  this  time 
of  the  year. 

As  they  reacned  their  hostelry  the  crowd  of  one 
astonished  darkey  became  a  crowd  of  two  astonished 
darkies;  for  an  arrival  in  St.  Augustine  at  any  time  of 
the  day  in  October  is  a  remarkable  fact  and  the  arrival 
of  four  people  at  midnight  from  a  phantom  yacht 
seemed  miraculous.  For  yachts  in  the  hot  months  at 
Saint  Augustine  are  very  rare  birds,  though  there  is  a 
squadron  of  them  during  the  winter. 

Unheeding  comment,  Baxter's  gray  eye  never  for  a 
moment  left  the  innocent  looking  bags  which  concealed 
the  yet  unproved  treasure-trove. 

Before  they  had  gone  a  hundred  yards  away  from 
the  landing  the  swift  swoop  of  the  Beauregard  had 
picked  up  the  returning  boat  and  the  beautiful  sea  rover 
had  vanished  in  the  night. 

"There  is  one  astonished  telegraph  operator  in  this 
sleepy  old  town,"  laughed  Lorimer,  as  he  recalled  the 
wonderment  with  which  the  clerk  had  received  their 
sheaf  of  messages. 

"  It  seems  providential.  You  can  get  your  passage 
to-morrow  to  Havana,  and  our  train  leaves  in  the  early 
morning  for  New  York." 

So,  after  a  few  hours'  rest,  Nixon  and  Lorimer  as 
especial  travelers  in  the  express  car  for  the  North, 
and  Baxter  and  Abercromby  with  railroad  tickets  for 
Tampa,  en  route  for  Havana,  bade  each  other  good 
bye  till  they  should  meet  in  Paris. 

But  they  did  not  know  that  a  local  H.  Kinsley  Syn 
tax  had  "  got  on  to  them  "  and  their  adventures  ;  and 
that  very  morning  a  great  New  York  journal  had  pub 
lished  with  big  head  lines  a  sensational  telegram  from 
St.  Augustine,  full  of  the  story  of  the  return  of  an 
American  wrecking  party  which  had  recovered  several 
heavy  chests  of  doubloons  from  a  sunken  Spanish  frig 
ate,  and  had  been  landed  from  a  phanton  yacht  which 
most  mysteriously  returned  to  the  hidden  location  for 
further  plunder. 

Some  of  this  news  drifting  over  to  Paris,  in  conjunc 
tion  with  the  cable  dispatches,  clicked  off  from  Saint 
Augustine,  produced  a  rage  of  excitement  in  certain 


HIS    CUBAN    SWEETHEART.  243 

fair  white  bosoms,  which  bad  been  panting  for  news  of 
the  departed — for  the  love  in  a  man's  heart  is  ofttimes 
forgotten  in  the  mad  rush  of  adventure — but  in  a 
waiting,  watching  woman  anxiety  causes  it  to  grow  and 
suspense  makes  it  more  tender. 


CHAPTER  XVII. 
"THE  LAW  OF  THE  BUCCANEERS!" 

IN  vain  Paris  had  wooed  the  three  waiting  women  with 
its  myriad  fascinations.  Gay  Boulevard  and  the  de 
lightful  Bois  were  not  the  haunts  of  the  distinguee 
widow  whose  diversely  beautiful  charges  attracted  a 
world  of  comment.  The  evident  social  luxury  of  the 
family,  the  thrilling  loveliness  of  Inez,  the  Greuze-like 
face  of  Ethel  Lorimer,  all  attracted  that  nervous 
advance  guard  of  the  fortune-hunters  who  always  keep 
watch  upon  the  American  colony. 

All  in  vain  were  the  gentle  tentacles  of  the  "hospi 
table  "  foreigner  thrown  out.  Sorrow  has  its  dignified 
mantle,  which  may  riot  be  rent  even  by  the  curious. 
There  was  time  enough  in  these  lonely  weeks  for  all 
three  to  realize  the  madness  of  the  quest,  the  improba 
bility  of  success,  and  the  dangers  and  delays  were  now 
but  too  apparent. 

Days  had  dragged  along  into  weeks,  and  beyond  two 
cablegrams,  followed  by  some  cautious  letters,  the 
loving  watchers  were  yet  without  tidings.  The  sweet 
faces  of  Inez  and  Ethel  began  to  be  at  last  a  bright 
haunting  charm  of  the  cable  offices,  where,  alas!  no 
magic  words  of  hope  awaited  them. 

One  evening  in  their  salon  at  the  Hotel  Athenie 
Inez  Romero's  clinging  arms  had  pressed  "the  mother" 
to  her  breast  once  more  in  a  wordless  "Good  night," 
and  brave  Ethel,  too,  had  for  the  hundredth  time  as 
serted  her  own  theories  as  to  the  necessary  delays  of 
communication  in  the  savage  interior  of  Honduras, 


244  HIS    CUBAN    SWEETHEART. 

when  the  sharp  sound  of  a  double  knock  called  Mrs. 
Lorimer  to  the  door  of  her  salon. 

Impassive  bearer  of  tidings  good  or  bad,  the  grave- 
faced  professional  servant  calmly  thrust  an  envelope 
into  the  startled  woman's  hand. 

She  was  nervously  trembling  over  the  unopened  tele 
graph  envelope  when  with  the  swoop  of  the  falcon, 
two  sets  of  clinging  arms  were  strained  around  her, 
and  laughing,  crying,  loving  eyes,  filled  with  happiest 
tears,  beamed  upon  her. 

"'Safe!     Safe,  mother!"  was  Ethel's  joyous  cry. 

"Your  son —  '  began  Inez,  but  there  was  no  reply, 
for  the  mother's  quick  eye  had  caught  the  words  of  the 
telegram: 

"All  well — coming  direct — successful." 

The  signature,  "Frank  and  Nixon,"  was  buzzing  in 
her  brain  as  she  gazed  about  to  find  her  two  excited 
guardian  angels  busied  in  comparing  two  other  cable 
grams  that  had  been  received  a  little  later.  For  the 
news  of  the  dreamy-eyed  Cuban  orphan  was  strangely 
contained  in  a  dispatch  signed  "Frank,"  and  Doctor 
Nixon  himself  had  been  thoughtful  enough  to  cable 
directly  to  Miss  Ethel. 

No  one  noted  how  the  dragging  days  filled  up  their 
measure  until  the  arrival  of  the  BourgognezA.  Havre.  The 
confirmatory  dispatches  announcing  the  sailing  from 
New  York  City  were  followedafew  days  later  by  a  cipher 
cablegram  from  Matanzas,  Cuba,  addressed  to  Frank 
Lorimer,  Hotel  Athenie,  Paris. 

"  Let  us  open  it,  it  must  contain  news  about  your 
estates,  Inez,"  remarked  Ethel,  in  whom  excitement 
had  not  yet  killed  curiosity. 

"  My  estates,  bah!  When  Frank  is  com — "  cried 
Miss  Inez,  but  stopped  here  and  got  very  red  in  the 
face. 

But  at  last  the  happy  day  came  when  Mrs.  Lorimer 
and  her  dazzling  charges  departed  together  for  the 
Gare  St.  Lazare  to  receive  the  pilgrims  of  the  Aguan. 
There  the  widow  had  the  advantage  of  the  young 
ladies;  she  embraced  both  the  bronzed  young  men. 
Ethel  had  only  the  kisses  of  one,  her  brother  ;  and 
poor  Inez,  forced  by  les  convenances  could  only  blush 


HIS   CUBAN    SWEETHEART.  245 

and  shake  hands  and  say  "  God  bless  you — you  have 
done  all  this  for  my  sake  " — though  her  starry  eyes  and 
enchanting  lips  perchance  meant  kisses  also. 

As  for  Ethel,  she  gave  him  a  look  that  made  Nixon 
wonder  how  he  ever  could  have  left  her. 

Half  an  hour  afterward,  in  their  salon  at  the  Athenie, 
Frank,  inspecting  the  cipher  telegram,  remarked:  "  By 
Jove  !  Abercromby  has  found  the  Romero  amnesty, 
and  he  and  Baxter  have  caught  the  steamer  from 
Havana.  That  Consul  is  a  regular  gilt-edged  brick." 

"  The  Romero  amnesty  ?  What  do  you  mean  !  "  cried 
Inez,  excitedly. 

"It  is  a  little  first  trick  in  a  game  that  will  soon 
ring  down  the  curtain  on  the  whole  drama  of  the  past. 
Its  lurid  lights  are  faded  forever,"  answered  Lorimer. 

"You  can  thank  Doctor  Nixon  for  your  precious 
stones — if  they're  worth  anything.  But  if  you  regain 
your  estates — bless  the  law  for  that,"  added  the  young 
attorney,  with  eyes  that  indicated  a  longing  for 
his  fee.  Then  he  said,  confidently  but  solemnly, 
"You  must  give  me  a  couple  of  days  after  Aber- 
cromby's  arrival  to  fight  my  own  last  battle  for  you." 

The  hours  sped  along  on  golden  wings 'until  the 
arrival  of  the  Havana  steamer,  as  in  wide-eyed  wonder 
the  ladies  followed  the  unrolled  panorama  of  the  rela 
tion  of  the  strange  Honduranean  voyage. 

While  awaiting  the  arrivals  from  Cuba,  Nixon  and 
Lorimer  busied  themselves  with  certain  important  con 
ferences  with  the  leading  dealers  in  precious  stones  in 
Paris.  These  were  controlled  by  advice  given  by  the 
great  firm  of  bankers  who  had  kindly  watched  over  the 
ladies  in  their  waiting  weeks. 

"It  ah  comes  to  this,  gentlemen,"  said  the  gray- 
bearded  chief  of  the  firm.  1  have  arranged  with  the 
leading  European  expert  on  emeralds  to  see  Tiffany, 
Reed  &  Co.'s  buyer.  You  had  better  face  him  at  once 
with  a  fair  selection  of  these  uncut  stones.  He  will 
be  under  the  impression  that  the  rough  stones  are  only 
in  your  charge  as  representatives  of  the  estate  of  some 
deceased  South  American  grandee.  Don't  lose  sight 
of  your  gems  a  moment." 

It  was  an  anxious  half  hour  which   Nixon  and  Lori- 


246  HIS    CUBAN    SWEETHEART. 

mer  passed  together  the  next  day  in  a  room  where  the 
representative  of  the  great  importing  jewelers  faced  a 
pallid  young  man  who  sat,  scales  and  tweezers  in  hand, 
at  a  plain  deal  table. 

''Remember,  Horrivtz,"  continued  the  head  clerk, 
"  we  are  to  pay  your  expert  fee." 

The  silent  foreigner  bowed  in  answer  as  he  then 
counted  and  noted  the  weight  of  twelve  rough  stones 
which  had  been  selected  as  a  fair  average  by  the  joint 
efforts  of  the  two  returned  adventurers. 

Then  he  bent  to  his  task,  while  Lorimer  and  Nixon 
watched  him  with  their  hearts  in  their  mouths. 

The  thin  claw-like  fingers  of  the  expert  strayed 
among  the  implements  and  chemicals  of  the  test  labor 
iously.  Plunging  his  hands  in  his  bushy  hair  the  nerve 
shaken  expert  pondered  long  and  finally  broke  out:  "  I 
never  doubted  the  evidence  of  my  senses  before,  and 
so  I  wish  the  privilege  of  calling  in  my  principal.  He 
is  the  money — I  am  only  the  science  of  this  thing.  You 
know  the  Venetian  Sangreal  cup — the  single  vase 
hollowed  from  an  emerald.  Our  people — the  Hebrews 
— loaned  the  great  Napoleon  a  half  million  crowns  on 
it  when  he  held  it  as  a  temporary  gage  of  fortune.  It 
was  proved  to  be  false  at  last.  And  but  a  year  ago  the 
great  Vienna  emerald  swindle!  An  unparalleled  gem 
— an  emerald  of  unheard  of  richness  and  water.  It 
had  passed  through  a  dozen  expert  hands.  The  sly 
Levantine  who  engineered  that  swindle  pocketed  a 
snug  forty  thousand  florins  in  clear  gold." 
"These  imitations  were — ?" 

"  Lumps  of  glass,  which  are,  after  all,  the  best  imi 
tation  of  the  colored  stones.  Strass — crystal — what 
ever  you  may  call  it.  There  are  hundreds  of  proud 
beauties  now  wearing  worthless  glass,  'in  the  swim,' 
where  the  lie  has  been  handed  down  by  generations  of 
innocent  dupes.  It  would  spread  dismay  among 
princes  and  princesses  if  ever  the  crown  jewels  of 
Europe  were  to  be  properly  examined.  But  these  things 
before  me  stagger  me.  Will  you  wait  a  few  moments? 
They  only  lack  the  traditional  flaws  for  me  to  pronounce 
at  once.  If  they  could  be  matched  there  is  an  open 
Imperial  order  for  a  nonpareil  emerald  necklace." 


HIS   CUBAN    SWEETHEART.  247 

The  friends  lingered  in  suspense.  Their  eyes  sought 
-each  other  in  silence.  The  expert  fled  away  and  re 
turned  with  the  other  Hebrew,  who  always  hovers  near 
on  a  field-day  of  such  financial  ventures. 

With  flashing  eyes  the  waiting  onlookers  suppressed 
their  breathing  as  the  globular  perspudtion  beaded  the 
brows  of  the  sons  of  Judah. 

A  jargon  which  defies  all  modern  vocabulary  enabled 
the  "chosen  ones"  to  confer,  as  the  impatient  watchers 
sat  with  their  hopes  combating  pessimistic  fears.  Lor- 
imer  felt  the  warm  blood  surge  to  his  temples  when  the 
young  expert  at  last  threw  down  his  metallic  antennael. 

"Real  !"  he  said,  decisively,  with  the  air  of  an 
oracle.  And  the  "  partner  "  whose  signs  of  prosperity 
in  efflorescent  jewelry  and  well-rounded  waistcoat 
added  to  his  self-sufficiency,  hoarsely  growled  :  "I 
back  him  up — with  all  my  money  !  " 

"What  do  you  value  them  at  !  "  incautiously  haz 
arded  Nixon. 

"Ah!  mine  fren'!"  and  the  two  Israelities  sprang 
up  eagerly,  as  with  waving  hands,  their  trembling 
palms  upturned;  they  raced  along  in  a  conversational 
steeplechase  to  be  the  first  at  limiting  the  possible 
bargain  within  the  decent  confines  of  profit. 

The  clerk  laughed  most  heartily  as  he  joined  the 
two  Americans  in  the  reception  room  after  a  half  hour's 
further  conference.  "It  will  probably  be  better  to 
arrange  with  the  head  of  our  house  to  have  the  gems 
cut,  and  then  valued  later.  We  will  take  them,  how 
ever,  if  you  wish,  on  our  own  risk  as  soon  as  we  agree 
on  a  price,  for  they  are  real !  " 

And  so  they  were,  beyond  the  possibility  of  any  mis 
take,  was  the  final  fiat  of  the  great  house,  delivered  on 
their  return  through  the  chief,  whose  congratulations 
were  now  in  order.  In  addition,  he  made  an  offer  for 
the  twelve  uncut  emeralds  that  made  the  young  men 
open  their  eyes. 

"  There  are  at  least  seven  hundred  emeralds  in  the 
bag,"  cried  Nixon,  excitedly  to  Lorimer  as  they  held 
private  conference  together.  "  At  this  rate — "  he  made 
hasty  figures — "  Senorita  Inez' will  be  worth  millions." 

"Yes — worth    millions!"    returned    Frank,    rather 


248  HIS  CUBAN  SWEETHEART. 

gloomily.  Then  he  added:  "Miss  Romero  must  be 
spoken  to  at  once.  She  had  better  take  the  money 
offered  for  these  twelve,  as  the  expenses  have  been 
very  heavy,  and  I'm  pretty  near  the  end  of  my  finan 
cial  tether." 

On  this  proposition  being  laid  before  Miss  Romero, 
she  immediately  assented  to  the  same,  the  jewels  were 
sold,  and  the  expenses  of  the  expedition  liquidated  in 
full. 

"She  is  a  great  heiress, "  said  Ethel  excitedly,  "isn't 
she  ?  And  owes  it  all  to  you,  Frank." 

"And  Doctor  Jim,"  said  her  brother  with  such 
gloom  in  his  voice  that  Nixon,  looking  after  him, 
uttered  a  prolonged  whistle,  and  remarked  to  himself: 

"By  Jove  !  That  fellow  has  made  that  girl  so  rich 
that  he's  afraid  to  propose  to  her." 

But  notwithstanding  this,  Frank  abated  no  effort  on 
behalf  of  the  young  lady  who  was  under  his  legal 
charge. 

"We  can  now  clear  away  decks  for  action  for  the 
last  trick,"  he  said  two  days  later,  when  Doctor  Will 
iam  Abercromby  and  "Tough"  Baxter  arrived  and 
delivered  the  proffered  amnesty,  ten  years  old,  from 
the  Spanish  government  to  Don  Jose  Romero  and  his 
descendants  under  certain  conditions. 

"Now,"  remarked  Lorimer,  "you,  Nixon  and  I 
move  on  the  Spanish  Ambassador.  While  we  prepare 
our  plans  you,  Doctor  Bill,  make  yourself  agreeable  to 
the  ladies." 

"  And  what  am  I  to  do  ?  "  said  Baxter. 

"Why,  see  Paris,  my  man.  This  is  the  chance  of 
your  life." 

Acting  upon  this  advice,  for  two  or  three  days  Bax- 
did  see  Paris  in  a  way  that  astonished  the  Cafes 
Chantants  and  the  Quartier  Latin.  In  fact,  before  he 
had  left  the  town  he  had  became  celebrated  among  the 
young  ladies  of  the  boulevards  under  the  soubriquet 
of  "  Le  Tr appear  Taciturne." 

As  for  Abercromby  he  did  his  duty  to  the  fair  ones 
and  led  the  ladies  afar  on  small  excursions,  of  great 
pleasure  to  them  and  large  profit  to  the  Parisian  shop 
keepers.  For  a  general  coquettish,  feminine  devilish- 


HIS    CUBAN    SWEETHEART.  249 

ness  seemed  to  assert  itself  now  in  the  two  maidens. 
They  looked  more  beautiful  than  ever;  they  arrayed 
themselves  in  the  most  exquisite  Parisian  gowns,  but 
as  Nixon  remarked,  seemed  "infernally  offish." 

"  I  can  understand,"  he  cogitated,  "the  emeralds 
getting  to  that  minx  Inez's  head,  but  what's  the  mat 
ter  with  that  blue-eyed,  level-headed  nixie  of  Pough- 
keepsie  ?  " 

But  the  young  men  had  plenty  to  do.  They  had 
already  made  friends  with  the  American  Legation,  and 
one  evening  under  convoy  of  an  attache,  Frank  Lori- 
mer  of  the  New  York  bar,  supported  by  Dr.  James 
Nixon,  with  due  gravity  and  splendor  of  attendant 
details,  were  at  last  ushered  into  the  conference  rooms 
of  the  Spanish  Ambassador  at  Paris. 

The  introduction  finished,  in  which  the  kindly 
attache  took  care  to  magnify  the  sudden  yearning  of 
the  American  government  as  to  the  Romero  affair;  the 
most  noble  the  Marquis  de  Villa  Flores  listened  with 
calm,  diplomatic  courtesy,  and  displayed  the  most 
haughty,  high-bred  patience  as  he  harkened  to  the 
American  lawyer's  demand  for  certain  papers  deposited 
with  him  when  he  was  the  Spanish  Minister  at  Wash 
ington  ten  years  before,  and  still  held  by  him,  relating 
to  Don  Jose"  Romero,  at  that  time  a  resident  of  the 
United  States. 

"  But  not  a  c:tizen,"  remarked  the  Marquis  blandly. 

"Certainly  not,  your  Excellency,"  replied  Lorimer. 

"Then  the  affair  is  very  simple.  Had  Don  Jose 
become  a  citizen  of  the  republic  I  fear  his  daughter 
could  never  have  received  the  estates.  As  he  has 
remained  a  Spanish  subject,  though  an  exile,  I  think  I 
can  aid  you.  In  fact,  I  shall  be  delighted  to  do 
so,  as  I  believe  I  have  the  honor  of  being  a 
second  or  third  cousin  of  the  fair  young  lady 
herself.  The  documents  placed  in  my  hands  were  a 
full  pardon  to  Romero  under  condition  that  he  agreed 
to  return  to  Cuba  and  made  oath  to  support  no  further 
insurrectionary  movements  in  the  island.  I  was  both 
astounded  and  grieved  that  he  never  applied  for  them, 
as  notice  of  the  amnesty  had  been  sent  to  him  by  a 
trusted  agent  of  ours,  one  Padre  Viciente  Guerra.  I 


250  HIS   CUBAN    SWEETHEART. 

am  very  candid  in  this  matter,  as  you  have  been  candid 
with  me,"  returned  the  Marquis. 

"I  will  be  still  more  so,  your  Excellency,"  replied 
Lorimer.  "  The  notice  of  amesty  given  into  the  hands 
of  Guerra  never  reached  Don  Jose  Romero,  but  was 
retained  to  further  his  own  personal  ends  by  Padre 
Viciente.  As  long  as  Romero  could  not  take  possession 
of  the  family  estates  at  Jibacoa  he,  Gutrra,  lived  in 
enjoyment  of  them.  Besides,  he  had  other  plans." 

With  this  the  lawyer  lucidly  laid  before  the' Spanish 
Ambassador  the  extraordinary  action,  plots  and  revenge 
of  the  man  who  had  masqueraded  as  priest  and  spy  at 
the  same  time. 

"Then,  there  only  remains  for  me  to  inform 
myself,"  answered  the  Ambassador,  "if  this  proffer 
from  the  Spanish  government  of  free  pardon  and  the 
lifting  of  the  confiscation  of  the  estates  are  still  open. 
That  I  can  easily  ascertain  by  telegraphing  my  govern 
ment  at  Madrid.  In  case  their  answer  is  favorable,  I 
shall  do  myself  the  honor  of  calling  in  person  with  the 
documents  upon  my  fair  relative.  You  will  hear  from 
me  in  the  course  of  a  few  days,"  added  the  Marquis, 
with  that  air  of  politeness,  yet  brevity,  which  great 
people  assume  toward  small  ones  to  show  them  that  the 
interview  is  finished. 

"  I  believe  your  case  is  all  right,"  said  the  attache 
cordially,  as  he  bade  the  young  men  good-bye  at  the 
American  Embassy.  "Only  don't  let  his  Spanish 
Excellency  get  the  girl  for  his  nephew,  who  is  a  very 
handsome  young  fellow,  exceedingly  extravagant  and 
somewhat  impecunious." 

This  kind  of  advice  made  Lorimer  very  moody  as 
they  strode  back  to  the  Athenie. 

But  at  his  hotel  a  surprise  awaited  both  him  and  Nixon. 
On  entering  his  mother's  parlor  and  asking  to  see  Miss 
Romero,  in  order  to  give  her  the  pleasant  information 
from  the  Spanish  Ambassador,  Mrs.  Lorimer  in 
formed  her  son  that  at  present  his  fair  client  was  not 
visible. 

"  Not  to  such  important  news  ?  "  asked  Frank  some 
what  hotly  and  very  disappointedly,  for  he  and  Nixon 
had  been  at  the  American  Embassy  most  of  the  day, 


HIS   CUBAN    SWEETHEART.  251 

and  his  eyes  hungered  for  the  sight  of  the  exquisite  face 
and  graceful  form  of  Senorita  Inez. 

"Not  just  at  present,"  replied  Mrs.  Lorimer. 
"  Inex  and  Ethel  are  preparing  a  little  tableau  for  you 
two,  Doctor  Abercromby  and  Mr.  Baxter,  whom  I 
expect  here  in  a  few  moments.." 

"A  tableaux?  "  queried   Nixon  astounded. 

"  Yes,  some  South  American  affair,"  laughed  Agnes. 
''The  girls  have  been  reading  up  about  the  buccaneers 
for  the  last  day  or  two. " 

•'Well,  what  has  all  this  do  with  those  four  gentle 
men  loitering  about  the  hall,  as  we  entered,"  remarked 
Frank,  anxious  to  grumble  about  something. 

"  Oh,  they're  four  agents  de  surete." 

"  Detectives!  "  cried  Nixon. 

"Yes,  they  have  been  here  all  day  guarding  the 
emeralds  that  have  been  sent  up  from  the  bank  in  the 
raw-hide  sacks  by  the  order  of  Miss  Inez." 

"Great  heavens!"  ejaculated  Doctor  Jim.  "And 
they  took  this  risk  to  give  us  a  tableau!  " 

"  I  suppose  they  have  strung  the  uncut  jewels  all 
over  them,"  remarked  Lorimer.  "What  a  sight  they 
will  be."  And  his  eyes  lighted  up  at  the  thought  of 
Miss  Romero  covered  with  uncut  jewels.  Then  he 
delivered  a  little  lecture  on  feminine  vanity  to  his 
mother,  which  that  widow  received  with  laughter. 

This  was  interrupted  by  the  entrance  of  Abercromby 
and  Mr.  "Tough  "  Baxter,  who  was  still  in  trapper's 
garb. 

Feminine  voices  nov  came  to  them  from  behind  the 
heavy  draperies  that  cut  off  the  salon  from  a  little  ante 
chamber. 

A  minute  after,  at  a  tinkle  of  a  little  bell,  Mrs. 
Lorimer's  maid  entered  and  drew  the  draperies  aside, 
disclosing  a  sight  that  made  even  imperturbable  Bax 
ter  remark,  soto  voce  :  "  By  golly!  " 

It  was  a  scene  that  might  well  produce  admiration, 
for  it  was  a  picture  of  the  past.  By  deft  feminine  hands 
the  room  had  been  turned  into  some  kind  of  medieval 
affair  with  old-fashioned  draperies,  antique  vases  and 
ancient  arms  that  :ad  been  borrowed  from  an  antiquary 
on  the  Rue  Rivoli.  Within  it  stood  Inez  Romero  and 


252  HIS   CUBAN    SWEETHEART. 

Ethel  Lorimer  dressed  in  the  costumes  of  two  hundred 
years  ago;  one  blondely  fair,  with  gleaming,  sparkling 
blue  eyes,  the  other  dark,  enchanting,  fascinating, with 
the  grand  beauty  of  Castile.  Heaped  about  them  were 
leather  bags  corded  up. 

"What's  the — the  meaning  of  this  masquerade  ?" 
muttered  Lorimer,  astounded. 

"  It  is  a  vision  of  the  plunder  of  the  buccaneers  !  " 
cried  Ethel,  laughingly. 

"It  means,"  said  Inez,  proudly,  "  that  the  plunder 
of  the  buccaneers  is  to  be  divided  among  those  who 
gained  it!"  Then  she  burst  forth  almost  indignantly : 
"Did  you  think  for  one  moment  that  I  could  have  been 
so  heartless,  so  ungrateful,  as  to  have  proffered  no 
reward  to  the  brave  men  who  have  risked  their  lives  to 
give  me  wealth  ?  This  plunder  is  buccaneers'  plun 
der,  the  division  shall  be  according  to  buccaneers' 
law." 

"  Buccaneers'  law!"  cried  Nixon.  "Why,  it's — it's 
like  a  dream  of  the  past!  " 

And  in  truth  it  was,  for  the  scene  carried  with  it  an 
antiquity  that  made  it  real.  The  room  looked  mediae 
val  with  its  old-fashioned  draperies  and  arms;  the  bags 
of  leather  seemed  like  the  plunder  of  some  Spanish 
fortress  at  Maracaibo  or  Porto  Bello,  and  Inez  Romero 
and  Ethel  Lorimer  in  their  antique  costumes  looked 
like  two  maidens,  the  fairest  in  all  the  ravaged 
town,  who  had  been  gathered  in  with  the 
treasure  to  be  the  spoil  of  the  chiefs  of  the  buccaneers: 
Ethel,  draped  wholly  in  white  with  floating  tresses  and 
excited  eyes;  Inez  in  black  and  gold,  her  hair  done 
up  with  high  jeweled  comb,  flaunting  a  fan  that  Spanish 
girls  alone  know  how  to  use,  her  bouffant  skirts 
trimmed  with  the  lace  of  Spain,  that  displayed  her  high- 
arched  but  petite  feet  and  exquisite  ankles  in  web-like 
hose  and  fairy  slippers. 

But  it  was  not  a  tableau  they  were  looking  cm;  it 
was  action,  vivid,  intense,  graceful  action,  as  Inez 
spoke  again  and  said:  "This  division  I  make  accord 
ing  to  Buccaneers'  Law!  First,  are  there  any  wounded? 
If  a  man  has  lost  an  arm,  a  hundred  and  twenty-five 
golden  crowns,  or  four  shares;  an  eye,  twenty-five, 


HIS    CUBAN    SWEETHEART.  253 

or  one  share ;  even  a  finger  must  be  paid  for  accord 
ing  to  the  laws  of  the  Companions  of  the  Gulf." 

"  I  ain't  lost  nothing  but  a  mule,"  replied  the  down 
right  Baxter,  who  seemed  to  regard  this  as  a  very 
business-like  affair. 

"That  shall  be  paid  for,"  remarked  Miss  Romero. 
"The  expenses  have  all  been  settled,  and  I  as  the 
queen  take  half,  or  three  hundred  shares." 

With  that  she  gathered  in  six  of  the  bags  of  emeralds 
and  placed  them  on  one  side.  "Now  comes  the  cap 
tain,  who  has  one  hundred  shares,  or  one-sixth  of  the 
plunder." 

With  this  the  two  girls  seized  two  sacks  and  pre 
sented  them  to  the  astonished  Lorimer. 

"  Next  comes  the  doctor  and  chief  intriguer."  And 
she  and  Ethel  laughingly  deposited  by  the  astounded 
Nixon  two  bags  of  uncut  emeralds. 

"The  other  shares,  one  hundred;  fifty  each,  one  to 
the  under  officer,  Abercromby,  and  the  other  to  the 
brave  guide,  who  saved  the  lives  of  all  of  you — the 
great  scout,  Baxter!" 

And  she  handed  to  the  astonished  ex-rebel  a  leather 
sack  and  to  the  delighted  Abercromby  another,  of 
equal  weight. 

"I  never  refuse  plunder,  Miss,"  replied  the  ex- 
guerrilla,  as  he  cooly  took  possession  of  his  own. 

But  here  Nixon  excitedly  said :  "  You  give  too  much. 
I  did  this — not  for  love  of  you,  I  confess  it  freely,  but 
for  love  of  him,"  and  he  placed  his  hand  upon  Lorimer's 
shoulder. 

But  Inez  cried:  "No!  No!  I  beg  of  you,  I  com 
mand  you  to  take  these.  I  could  not  sleep  to-night  if 
I  thought  each  one  of  you  had  not  received  his  share. 
It  is  according  to  the  laws  of  the  Brotherhood  of  Buc 
caneers  that  you  share  the  plunder.  But  know  that  you 
have  my  gratitude  as  well.  Would  not  my  heart  have 
been  broken  if  destruction  had  come  to  you?  Take  it, 
share  the  plunder  according  to  the  laws  of  the  buc 
caneers!  " 

This  was  said  with  streaming  eyes ;  then  quick  as 
thought  the  generous  girl,  overcome  by  some  emotion 
that  was  too  potent  to  be  concealed,  fled  from  the 


254  HIS    CUBAN    SWEETHEART. 

room  and  perchance  would  have  escaped  had  not  a  sud 
den  idea  flashed  like  wildfire  into  Lorimer's  excited  brain. 

In  an  instant  he  was  after  her  and  stayed  the  beauty 
in  a  little  writing-room  belonging  to  Mrs.  Lorimer. 

"  You  have  followed  me  here?  "  said  the  girl,  turn 
ing  upon  him,  and  looking  more  beautiful  than  she  had 
ever  looked. 

"  Yes,  to  demand  my  whole  share  of  the  plunder!  " 
whispered  the  excited  Frank. 

"You  have  it.  Is  it  not  enough — have  I  not  given 
you  your  due? " 

"  No!  The  Captain's  share  is  not  only  his  portion 
of  the  treasure  but  also  the  right  to  the  most  beautiful 
captive  maiden  in  the  town.  When  you  stood  amid 
the  buccaneer's  booty  I  said:  'Thank  God,  I  am  the 
captain  of  the  band,  and  the  prettiest  maid  comes  into 
my  hand  by  law  of  the  buccaneers.' ' 

"OMadre!  ODios!"  gasped  the  girl  between  his 
kisses.  For  she  had  no  more  chance  of  escaping  from 
him  than  she  would  have  had  of  escaping  from  Harry 
Morgan  himself. 

"Booty  and  beauty  is  my  motto,"  whispered  Frank 
to  her  in  rapture.  "  Only  we'll  have  wax  candles  over 
this  affair  and  the  priest's  blessing." 

"Diosf  What  a  buccaneer  you  would  have  made," 
replied  the  young  lady,  in  an  admiration  that  showed 
that  his  attentions,  though  ardent,  had  by  no  means 
been  displeasing. 

"lam  ahead  of  the  Spanish  Ambassador  and  his 
nephew,"  whispered  Lorimer,  a  few  minutes  after  to  his 
chum,  when  he  had  returned  to  the  salon. 

"Are  you?"  replied  Nixon.  "That  means  the 
priest — for  two  ;  but  I  say  it  means  priests  for  four. 
For,  between  us,  I  have  secured  the  other  captive 
maiden  myself — congratulate  me." 

"What!  You  fell  in  love  with  Ethel,  as  she  stood 
there,  surrounded  by  the  treasure?  Huw  romantic," 
whispered  the  young  lawyer. 

"Bosh!  I  fell  in  love  with  Ethel  the  first  moment  I 
saw  her,  I  think.  Oh,  blind-eyed!  didn't  you  see  that 
all  I  did  for  you  was  for  love  of  her?  Is  Senorita 
Rom.iro  the  only  pretty  girl  in  this  world?  " 


HIS    CUBAN    SWEETHEART.  255 

And  they  had  a  very  happy  party  that  night,  Mr. 
Baxter  telling  them  to  have  no  fear  of  thieves  for  the 
jewels.  He  was  going  to  take  care  of  his  own  and  he 
would  take  care  of  theirs  also.  "If  they  can  get 
away  with  a  bag  before  I  shoot  they  are  welcome  to  it. " 

Then  the  shoppings  of  the  young  ladies  increased 
and  doubled  and  trebled,  for  they  were  buying  their 
trousseaux.  And  they  transformed  emeralds  into 
dresses  with  great  rapidity. 

Some  two  days  after  this  the  Spanish  Ambassador 
drove  from  his  Embassy  bringing  his  nephew  with 
him  and  presented  in  form  the  revocation  of  the  con 
fiscation  of  the  Romero  estates,  and  begged  to  intro 
duce  his  nephew,  Don  Caesar  de  Flores. 

But  his  Spanish  Excellency's  jaw  dropped,  likewise 
his  nephew's,  a  few  weeks  after,  when  they  received 
the  cards  announcing  the  approaching  nuptials  of 
Senorita  Inez  Romero  and  Frank  Lorimer,  Esq.,  of 
New  York;  likewise  the  paste-boards  stating  that  Miss 
Ethel  Lorimer  would  on  that  same  day  become  Mrs. 
James  Nixon. 

The  double  wedding  would  have  been  a  quiet  one,  only 
that  the  American  colony  in  Paris,  getting  excited 
over  the  matter,  made  it  a  fashionable  event,  and  H. 
Kinsley  Syntax,  who  was  over,  doing  the  continent, 
sent  columns  of  cable  to  the  New  York  papers,  headed 
"  His  Cuban  Sweetheart. "  But  he  would  have  liked 
to  have  heard  one  sentence  that  one  bridegroom 
remarked  to  the  other  as  they  shook  hands  before 
departing  upon  separate  wedding  tours: 

"By  Jove,  Jimmy,  c  d  chum !  this  is  a  buccaneer 
affair — booty  and  beauty,  eh,  my  boy  ?  " 

"Egad,"  replied  Nixon,  "old  Harry  Morgan 
couldn't  have  made  a  cleaner  scoop  himself!  " 

FINIS. 


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